Kelderek and Taphro came to a stop before a young, very tall man, with a silver torque on his left arm. When they entered he had had his back to the door, but now he turned to look at them, holding his horn in one hand and sitting somewhat unsteadily on the table with his feet on the bench below. He looked Kelderek up and down with a bland smile, but said nothing. Confused, Kelderek lowered his eyes. The young baron's silence continued and the hunter, by way of keeping himself in countenance, tried to fix his attention on the great table, which he had heard described but never before seen. It was old, carved with a craftsmanship beyond the skill of any carpenter or woodworker now alive on Ortelga. Each of the eight legs was pyramidal in shape, its steeply-tapering sides forming a series of steps or ledges, one above another to the apex. The two corners of the board that he could sec had the likeness of bears' heads, snarling, with open jaws and muzzles thrust forward. They were most life-like. Kelderek trembled and looked quickly up again.
'And what ekshtra work you come give us?' asked the young baron cheerfully. 'Want fellows repair causeway, zattit?'
'No, my lord,' said Numiss in a low voice. 'This is the man who refused to tell his news to the shendron.'
'Eh?' asked the young baron, emptying his horn and beckoning to a boy to re-fill it. 'Man with shensh, then. No ushe talking shendrons. Shtupid fellowsh. All shendrons shtupid fellowsh, eh?' he said to Kelderek.
'My lord,' replied Kelderek, 'believe me, I have nothing against the shendron, but – but the matter 'Can you read?' interrupted the young baron. 'Read? No, my lord.'
'Neither c'n I. Look at old Fassel-Hasta there. What's he reading? Who knows? You watch out; he'll bewitch you.'
The baron with the piece of bark turned with a frown and stared at the young man, as much as to say that he at any rate was not one to act the fool in his cups.
'I'll tell you,' said the young baron, sliding forward from the table and landing with a jolt on the bench, 'all 'bout writing – one word -'
'Ta-Kominion,' called a harsh voice from the further room, 'I want to speak with those men. Zelda, bring them.'
Another baron rose from the bench opposite, beckoning to Kelderek and Taphro. They followed him out of the Sindrad and into the room beyond, where the High Baron was sitting alone. Both, in token of submission and respect, bent their heads, raised the palms of their hands to their brows, lowered their eyes and waited.
Kelderek, who had never previously come before Bel-ka-Trazet, had been trying to prepare himself for the moment when he would have to do so. To confront him was in itself an ordeal, for the High Baron was sickeningly disfigured. His face – if face it could still be called – looked as though it had once been melted and left to set again. Below the white-seamed forehead the left eye, askew and fallen horribly down the cheek, was half buried under a great, humped ridge of flesh running from the bridge of the nose to the neck. The jaw was twisted to the right, so that the lips closed crookedly; while across the chin stretched a livid scar, in shape roughly resembling a hammer. Such expression as there was upon this terrible mask was sardonic, penetrating, proud and detached -that of a man indestructible, a man to survive treachery, siege, desert and flood.
The High Baron, seated on a round stool like a drum, stared up at the hunter. In spite of the heat he was wearing a heavy fur cloak, fastened at the neck with a brass chain, so that his ghastly head resembled that of an enemy severed and fixed on top of a black tent. For some moments there was silence – a silence like a drawn bow-string. Then Bel-ka-Trazet said, 'What is your name?'
His voice, too, was distorted; harsh and low, with an odd ring, like the sound of a stone bounding over a sheet of ice. 'Kelderek, my lord.' 'Why are you here?' 'The shendron at the zoan sent me.' 'That I know. Why did he send you?' 'Because I did not think it right to tell him what befell me today.'
'Why does your shendron waste my time?' said Bel-ka-Trazet to Taphro. 'Could he not make this man speak? Are you telling me he defied you both? '
'He – the hunter – this man, my lord,' stammered Taphro. 'He told us – that is, he would not tell us. The shendron – he asked him about – about his injury. He replied that a leopard pursued him, but he would tell us no more. When we demanded to know, he said he could tell us nothing.' There was a pause. 'He refused us, my lord,' persisted Taphro. 'We said to him -' 'Be silent.'
Bel-ka-Trazet paused, frowning abstractedly and pressing two fingers against the ridge beneath his eye. At length he looked up.
'You are a clumsy liar, Kelderek, it seems. Why trouble to speak of a leopard? Why not say you fell out of a tree?' 'I told the truth, my lord. There was a leopard.'
'And this injury,' went on Bel-ka-Trazet, reaching out his hand to grasp Kelderek's left wrist, and gently moving his arm in a way that suggested that he might pull it a good deal harder if he chose, 'this trifling injury. You had it, perhaps, from someone who was disappointed that you had not brought him better news? Perhaps you told him, "The shendrons are alert, surprise would be difficult," and he was displeased?' 'No, my lord.'
'Well, we shall see. There was a leopard, then, and you fell. What happened then?' Kelderek said nothing. 'Is this man a half-wit?' asked Bel-ka-Trazet, turning to Zelda.
'Why, my lord,' replied Zelda, 'I know little of him, but I believe he is known for something of a simple fellow. They laugh at him – he plays with the children -' 'He does what?' 'He plays with children, my lord, on the shore.' 'What else?'
'Otherwise he is solitary, as hunters often are. He lives alone and harms no one, as far as I know. His father had hunter's rights to come and go and he has been allowed to inherit them. If you wish, we can send to find out more.' 'Do so,' said Bel-ka-Trazet: and then to Taphro, 'You may go.'
Taphro snatched his palm to his forehead and was gone like a candle-flame in the wind. Zelda followed him with more dignity.
'Now, Kelderek,' said the twisted mouth, slowly, 'you are an honest man, you say, and we are alone, so there is nothing to hinder you from telling your story.'
Sweat broke out on Kelderek's face. He tried to speak, but no words came.
'Why did you tell the shendron a few words and then refuse to tell more?' said the High Baron. 'What foolishness was that? A rogue should know how to cover his tracks. If there was something you wished to conceal, why did you not invent some tale that would satisfy the shendron?'
'Because – because the truth – ' The hunter hesitated. 'Because I was afraid and I am still afraid.' He stopped, but then burst out suddenly, 'Who can lie to God? – ' Bel-ka-Trazet watched him as a lizard watches a fly. ' Zelda P he called suddenly. The baron returned.
'Take this man out, put his arm in a sling and let him eat Bring him back in half an hour – and then, by this knife, Kelderek -' and he drove the point of his dagger into the golden snake painted on the lid of the chest beside him – 'you shall tell me what you know.'
The unpredictable nature of dealings with Bel-ka-Trazet were the subject of many a tale. With Zelda's hand under his shoulder, Kelderek stumbled out into the Sindrad and sat huddled on a bench while the boys brought him food and a leather sling.
When next he faced Bel-ka-Trazet night had fallen. The Sindrad outside was quiet, for all but two of the barons had gone to their own quarters. Zelda sat in the firelight, looking over some arrows which the fletcher had brought Fassel-Hasta was hunched on another bench at the table, slowly writing, with an inked brush on bark, by the light of a smoky earthenware lamp. A lamp was burning also on the lid of Bel-ka-Trazet's chest. In the shadows beyond, two fire-flies went winking about the room. A curtain of wooden beads had been let fall over the doorway and from time to time these clicked quietly in the night breeze.