Kelderek and Taphro, turning their backs on the Belt, made their way towards the town along a narrow path between the hemp fields. Here and there women were carrying up water from among the reeds, or manuring ground already harvested and gleaned. At this hour there were few workers, however, for it was nearly supper time. Not far away, beyond the trees, threads of smoke were curling into the evening sky and with them, from somewhere on the edge of the huts, rose the song of a woman: 'He came, he came by night. I wore red flowers in my hair. I have left my lamp alight, my lamp is burning. Senandril na kora, senandril na ro.'
There was an undisguised warmth and satisfaction in the voice. Kelderek glanced at Taphro, jerked his head in the direction of the song, and smiled. 'Aren't you afraid?' asked Taphro in a surly tone. The grave, preoccupied look returned to Kelderek's eyes.
'To go before the High Baron and say that you persisted in refusing to tell the shendron what you know? You must be mad I Why be such a fool?'
'Because this is no matter for concealment or lying. God -' he broke off.
Taphro made no reply, but merely held out his hand for Kelderek's weapons – knife and bow. The hunter handed them to him without a word.
They came to the first huts, with their cooking, smoke and refuse smells. Men were returning from the day's work and women, standing at their doors, were calling to children or gossiping with neighbours. Though one or two looked curiously at Kelderek trudging acquiescently beside the shendron's messenger, none spoke to him or called out to ask where they were going. Suddenly a child, a boy perhaps seven or eight years old, ran up and took his hand. The hunter stopped. 'Kelderek,' asked the child, 'are you coming to play this evening?'
Kelderek hesitated. 'Why – I can't say. No, Sarin, I don't think I shall be able to come this evening.'
'Why not?' said the child, plainly disappointed. 'You've hurt your shoulder – is that it?'
'There's something I've got to go and tell the High Baron,' replied Kelderek simply. Another, older boy, who had joined them, burst out laughing. 'And I have to see the Lord of Belda before dawn – a matter of life and death. Kelderek, don't tease us. Don't you want to play tonight?'
'Come on, can't you?' said Taphro impatiently, shuffling his feet in the dust.
'No, it's the truth,' said Kelderek, ignoring him. 'I'm on my way to see the High Baron. But I'll be back: either tonight or – well, another night, I suppose.' He turned away, but the boys trotted beside him as he walked on.
'We were playing this afternoon,' said the little boy. 'We were playing "Cat Catch a Fish". I got the fish home twice.' 'Well done' said the hunter, smiling down at him.
'Be off with you!' cried Taphro, making as though to strike at them. 'Come on – get out!' You great dunder-headed fool,' he added to Kelderek, as the boys ran off. 'Playing games with children at your age!'
'Good night!' called Kelderek after them. 'The good night you pray for – who knows?'
They waved to him and were gone among the smoky huts. A man passing by spoke to Kelderek but he made no reply, only walking on abstractedly, his eyes on the ground.
At length, after crossing a wide area of rope-walks, the two approached a group of larger huts standing in a rough semi-circle not far from the eastern point and its broken causeway. Between these, trees had been planted, and the sound of the river mingled with the evening breeze and the movement of the leaves to give a sense of refreshing coolness after the hot, dry day. Here, not only women were at work. A number of men, who seemed by their appearance and occupations to be both servants and craftsmen, were trimming arrows, sharpening stakes and repairing bows, spears and axes. A burly smith, who had just finished for the day, was climbing out of his forge in a shallow, open pit, while his two boys quenched the fire and tidied up after him. Kelderek stopped and turned once more to Taphro.
'Badly-aimed arrows can wound innocent men. There's no need for you to be hinting and gossiping about me to these fellows.' 'Why should you care?' 'I don't want them to know I'm keeping a secret,' said Kelderek.
Taphro nodded curdy and went up to a man who was cleaning a grindstone, the water flying off in a spiral as he spun the wheel. 'Shendron's messenger. Where is Bel-ka-Trazet?'
'He? Eating.' The man jerked his thumb towards the largest of the huts. 'I have to speak to him.'
'If it'll wait,' replied the man, 'you'd do better to wait Ask Numiss – the red-haired fellow – when he comes out. He'll let you know when Bel-ka-Trazet's ready.'
Neolithic man, the bearded Assyrian, the wise Greeks, the howling Vikings, the Tartars, the Aztecs, the samurai, the cavaliers, the anthropophagi and men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders: there is one thing at least that all have known in common – waiting until someone of importance has been ready to see them. Numiss, chewing a piece of fat as he listened to Taphro, cut him short, pointing him and Kelderek to a bench against the wall. There they sat. The sun sank until its rim touched the horizon upstream. The flies buzzed. Most of the craftsmen went away. Taphro dozed. The place became almost deserted, until the only sound above that of the water was the murmur of voices from inside the big hut. At last Numiss came out and shook Taphro by the shoulder. The two rose and followed the sen-ant through the door, on which was painted Bel-ka-Trazet's emblem, a golden snake.
The hut was divided into two parts. At the back were Bel-ka-Trazet's private quarters. The larger part, known as the Sindrad, served as both council-chamber and mess-hall for the barons. Except when a full council was summoned it was seldom that all the barons were assembled at once. There were continual journeys to the mainland for hunting expeditions and trade, for the island had no iron or other metal except what could be imported from the Gelt mountains in exchange for skins, feathers, semi-precious stones and such artifacts as arrows and rope; whatever, in fact, had any exchange value. Apart from the barons and those who attended upon them, all hunters and traders had to obtain leave to come and go. The barons, as often as they returned, were required to report their news like anyone else and while living on the island usually ate the evening meal with Bel-ka-Trazet in the Sindrad.
Some five or six faces turned towards Taphro and Kelderek as they entered. The meal was over and a debris of bones, rinds and skins littered the floor. A boy was collecting this refuse into a basket, while another sprinkled fresh sand. Four of the barons were still sitting on the benches, holding their drinking-horns and leaning their elbows on the table. Two, however, stood apart near the doorway – evidently to get the last of the daylight, for they were talking in low tones over an abacus of beads and a piece of smooth bark covered with writing. This seemed to be some kind of list or inventory, for as Kelderek passed, one of the two barons, looking at it, said, 'No, twenty-five ropes, no more,' whereupon the other moved back a bead with his fore-finger and replied, 'And you have twenty-five ropes fit to go, have you?'