As it began to gather way, a storm of flames poured backward through the pyre. The sound of crackling changed to a hot, windy roaring and sparks and cinders raced upward, wavering and dodging like escaping birds. Logs began to shift and fall, and here and there a burning fragment dropped hissing into the water. Presently, cleaving through the noise of dissolution like a ploughshare through heavy soil, there rose once again the sound of singing. The villagers upon the shore were encouraging and urging on the young men at the paddles, who were labouring now as they drew further out and began to be carried downstream with the current-borne raft. At dawn we come to the shore and loose our boats. If luck is with us none will be hungry tonight. Who has his net and who has skill with a spear? Poor men must live by any means they can.
The raft was half a bowshot from land now and as far downstream from where Kelderek stood, but still the paddlers dug rhythmically into the water and the plume of smoke blew shoreward as they toiled to pull it further out. Buying wisdom dear is the lot of men, And learning to make the most of what they've got. What I call luck's a fire and a bellyful, A girl for your bed and children to learn your craft.
They clapped and stamped as they sang, in the rhythm of the paddles, and yet it was a grave and not unfitting sound; of a minor cadence, homely and shrewd, the single music of folk whose solemnity is but their wit turned inside out to serve the occasion and mood of the day. The raft was a long way out now and far downstream, so far that the distant paddles could be seen striking behind the beat of the song. The young men had turned the bow half-upstream into the current, so that the raft was below them and the side on which the bodies had lain was once more turned towards the shore. Kelderek, gazing, could discern nothing on top of the burning pyre. It had fallen inwards at the centre, the two glowing halves spread on either side like the wings of a great butterfly. Shardik was no more.
'Twice,' he cried, 'I followed you into the Telthearna, Lord Shardik. Now I can follow you no longer.' Returning at dusk we see the fires on shore. If one is yours then you're a lucky man. No one ought to be left alone in the dark. If you die, brother, your children shall share my fire.
The paddlers cast off the rope and turned away, making for the shore downstream and an easy return in slack water under the bank. The raft could no longer be seen, but far-off, a point on the surface of the river itself seemed to be burning, emitting smoke and covering the watery expanse with a wide, drifting cloud. We gut the fish and the children spit them to cook. 'Hullo, my son, my tall young zoan tree! What have you got to say to your dad tonight?' 'When I'm a man, I'll paddle a boat like you!'
The pouring smoke was gone. Trees hid it from view. Kelderek, closing his eyes as he turned away, found his soldier beside him, felt his arm under his shoulders and allowed himself to be lifted almost bodily through the shallows to the shore. Tan-Rion called up his men and turned them about to recover their arms. Then they marched away: and the villagers, too, began to disperse, two matronly women shepherding Radu and the other children with them. Yet several, before they went, came forward – some a little hesitantly, for they stood in awe of Kelderek – to kiss his hands and ask his blessing. Any holy man may have the power to confer good luck, and a chance is not to be missed. He stood hunched and silent as a heron, but nodded back at them and looked in the eye each one that passed before him – an old man with a withered arm, a tall young fellow who raised his palm to his forehead, a girl who smiled shyly at the priestess standing near by and gave her the flowers she was carrying. Last of all came a ragged old woman, with a child lying asleep in her arms. Kelderek started and almost backed away but she, showing neither hesitation nor surprise, took his hand in her own, kissed it, spoke a few words with a smile and was gone, hobbling away over the stones. 'What did she say?' he asked Melathys. 'I couldn't catch it.' 'She said, "Bless me, young sir, and accept my blessing in return." ' He lay on his bed in the upper room, watching the elastic reflections widening, merging and closing among the roof-poles. Melathys sat beside him, holding his good hand in both her own. He was tired out and feverish again, shivering and numb-cold. There was nothing left remarkable in the world. All was empty and cold, stretching away to the horizon and the blank sky.
"Hope you didn't find our singing out of keeping, sir,' said Tan-Rion. 'The priestess said it would be all to the good if we could manage a song, but the job was to think of something suitable that the lads could sing. They all know "The Tears", of course.'
Kelderek found some words of thanks and praise, and after a little the officer, seeing that he was exhausted, took his leave. Presently Radu came, wrapped in a cloak from throat to ankles, and sat for a time opposite Melathys.
'They say my father's on his way,' he said. 'I'd hoped he might be here before this. If only he'd known, he'd have wished to be on the shore this afternoon.'
Kelderek smiled and nodded like an old man, only partly taking in what he said. But indeed Radu said little, sitting silent for long minutes and once biting on his hand to still the chattering of his teeth. Kelderek slipped into a half-doze and woke to hear him answering Melathys.
'- but they'll be all right, I think.' And then, after a pause, 'Shouter's ill, you know – quite badly, they say.' 'Shouter?' asked Melathys, puzzled. 'Is he?' said Kelderek. 'But I saw him on the shore.'
'Yes, I dare say he thought he'd better be there at all costs – not that it makes any difference – but he's in a bad way this evening. I believe it's fear as much as anything. He's terrified: partly of the other children; but partly of the villagers as well. They know who he is – or who he was – and they won't do anything for him. He's lying by himself in a shed, but I think he'd run away if he could.' 'Who's Shouter?' asked Melathys again.
'Will they kill him?' said Kelderek. Radu did not answer at once and he pressed him. 'What do you want to do with him?'
'No one's actually said anything; but what would be the good of killing him?' 'Is that really what you feel – after all you've suffered?'
'It's what I feel I ought to feel, anyway.' He was silent again for some time and then said, 'No one's going to kill you. Tan-Rion told me.'
'I'll – I'll come and talk to Shouter,' said Kelderek, groping to get up. 'Where is the shed?'
'Lie down, my love,' said Melathys. 'I'll go. Since no one tells me about him, I must see this Shouter for myself – or hear him.'
57 Elleroth's Dinner
Party When he woke, his Yeldashay soldier was sitting near by mending a piece of leather in the fading light. Seeing Kelderek awake, he grinned and nodded, but said nothing. Kelderek slept again and was next wakened by Melathys lying down beside him.
'If I don't lie down I'll fall down. I'll be off to bed soon, but it means so much to be alone with you again for a little. How are you?'
'Empty – desolate. Lord Shardik – I can't take it in.' He broke off, but then said, 'You did well today. The Tuginda herself could have done no better.'
'Yes, she could: and she would have. But what happened was ordained.' 'Ordained?'
'So I believe. I haven't told you something else the Tuginda said to me before I left Zeray. I asked her whether, if I found you, I should give you any message from her; and she said, "He's troubled because of what he did years ago, at moonset on the road to Gelt. He hasn't been able to ask forgiveness, although he wants it. Tell him I forgive him freely." And then she said, "I'm guilty too -guilty of pride and stupidity." I asked, "How, saiyett? How could you be?" "Why," she said, "you know, as I do, what we have been taught and what we have taught to others. We were taught that God would reveal the truth of Shardik through two chosen vessels, a man and a woman: and that He would break those vessels to fragments and Himself fashion them again to His purpose. I had supposed, in my stupid pride, that the woman was myself, and often I have thought that I was indeed suffering that breaking. I was wrong. It was not I, my dear girl," she said to me. "It was not I, but another woman, that He chose to be broken and whom He has now fashioned again.'"