To Menish’s vague annoyance Azkun and Tenari swung themselves down easily, as if they had been born to the sea. Of course Azkun did have Vorthenki blood in his veins, as only Menish knew for sure.
In spite of the weather the sailors stayed on the ship. Awan was reluctant to let them ashore when there was no sailors’ lodge sacred to Yaggrothil. He was happy to trade with the village though and Omoth, who had relatives here, was allowed to land.
Althak took a hand at one of the oars and they seemed to fly across the waves. It was another race between the two boats. One of the oarsmen, another red-beard who resembled Darven enough to be his son, urged their rowers on with threats, jokes and curses.
When, finally, the boat scraped against the shingle beach amid a wash of foam, it was impossible to decide who had won. The oarsmen leapt out and hauled the boat up the beach. Drinagish, for all his apparent weakness, was out of the boat almost before the oarsmen. He threw himself on the stones and hugged the ground on which he lay. Menish and the others left with more dignity. He could not bring himself to rebuke his nephew for unseemly behaviour. He too was grateful for solid ground beneath his feet.
The stones crunched comfortably under their feet as they made their way up to the palisaded village. Darven sent one of his men on ahead to order preparations for a feast and Menish discovered, for the first time in days, that he was very hungry. The sea retch had forced him to eat sparingly and now that it had left him he was starved. No doubt the feast would be more fish stew, but he felt he could enjoy even that.
The village was a good deal better than Lianar, although there were no stone buildings like the old inn. This was not a place the Relanese had used. The palisade was well constructed and three times the height of a Vorthenki. The tops of the logs were sharpened and, on the inside of the structure, a fighting platform ran around the walls to allow the villagers to fend off ladders and to hurl spears and rocks at their attackers.
The gates, always the weak point in such a defence, were set at an angle into the wall. The wall on the right curved into the edge of the door, giving those defending it easy access to the unshielded side of the attackers. Great iron hinges held the gates and a heavy wooden bar could be drawn across it. Darven, who was obviously proud of the defences, pointed out another bar that lay alongside one of the open gates. It could be fitted into a socket in the ground that was packed with stones and placed against the gates to give them extra strength.
The houses themselves were made of well-cut planks of wood and thatched with straw. Rather than curtains of animal skins they had wooden doors, again on iron hinges, and carved door lintels. The carving writhed with sinuous figures of men, women and dragons. Over each lintel hung a pair of sheep’s horns, and some sprigs of fennel were threaded around them. Much as Menish disliked the Vorthenki, he could not help but admire their carving.
Women clustered in the doorways of the houses, torn between the drizzle and their curiosity of what the men had found in the ship. Like their men they were tall and usually yellow-haired.
Darven led them to the largest house, though they were all much the same. The doorway reeked of fennel as they passed through into the gloomy interior, but that smell was replaced by the smell of smoke, stale sweat and cooking.
Inside the house was typical of its type. A long hall filled the whole structure with a fire burning at its centre. At the very far end a wicker screen hid the women’s enclosure and near the door a similar screen formed a pen to enclose animals at night. Menish noted one of the differences between the way the Vorthenki treated their cattle and their women was that they kept them at different ends of the house.
The fire in the centre of the hall burned brightly and was the only source of light, for there were no windows and no lamps. Its flames curled around a great cauldron that hung from a large chain attached to the central beam of the roof near the smoke hole. Surrounding the fire a ring of stones kept the cracking, popping logs from lighting the rushes on the floor.
Benches and stools and sleeping furs lined the walls and, near the fire, an ornately carved throne stood; the chief’s place.
As they entered Menish heard a gasp beside him and turned to see Azkun wide-eyed and clutching his throat. He caught him by the shoulders and shook him.
“What is it?”
“They killed something,” he whispered. “It has passed,” he said after a moment, and Menish’s attention was diverted by Darven’s folk greeting them.
They crowded around them, anxious to see the strangers. Menish caught glimpses of a toothless old man, young children, plump women and several surly youths who had been tending the cauldron.
“Shoo! Back! All of you. Malak, I told you to keep stirring that pot, get back to it. If you let that fish boil dry again I’ll skin you alive.” The woman who spoke waved a curved bronze dagger at one of the youths as if she meant it. Malak slunk back to the cauldron over the fire, swinging the long ladle in his hand like a sword.
The others returned to their work as well. Several women were spinning near the fire and one was working a loom. The children stepped back a few paces but otherwise continued to stare at the strangers.
“Keashil! Keashil, it's me, Frethi!” the woman with the dagger embraced the blind harper and Menish saw tears sparkling in the firelight. Frethi was, of course, tall with yellow brown hair. It hung in braids almost to the ground and her tunic was of vivid green wool shot with a red thread. Menish noticed the small, metal spiral that hung from a leather string around her neck. She was a priestess of Kopth, dedicated to him from birth.
Not all of Darven’s folk had returned to their work. Two of the other women and the old man did not seem to find it necessary to obey Frethi’s order. The women were obviously Darven’s favourites, they both wore rich tunics. One wore a heavy gold necklace and a brooch with a sparkling red stone, while the other sported long golden earrings. The one with the earrings was quite young, the other was closer to Darven's age.
The older of them also embraced Keashil.
“It's Seti,” she said. “We heard rumours, bad rumours. We thought you were dead.”
The younger one pushed past the other women to Darven's side and clutched his arm possessively.
The old man just smiled and nodded at them, even bent as he was with age he was taller than the Anthorians. Menish wondered who he was that he could ignore Frethi’s order.
“Frethi, you have another guest too,” said Darven, interrupting the women from their embrace. “Take them both to the women’s enclosure and show them hospitality.”
Frethi smiled at Tenari and, taking Keashil’s arm, beckoned for her to follow.
Tenari, of course, ignored her. She still stared blankly at Azkun. Seti reached for her arm and Darven frowned. “Is there something wrong with her?”
Before Azkun could start telling him about the Chasm Menish said, “She won't leave my companion, but thank you anyway”
Their host shrugged and, while Frethi led Keashil to the far end of the hall behind the wicker screen, he gestured them to come and sit by the fire. Just before he sat Darven hesitated, looking at the throne and then at Menish. The throne of the hall was the right of the greatest lord present.
“No, Darven,” laughed Menish. “Your throne is much too big for my frame!” He picked up a stool, drew it close to the fire and sat on it.
“It's not seemly,” Darven glanced about, searching for something as he spoke. “Couldn’t you sit on a better stool, M’Lord? Here, this one's finer.” He found an ornate stool with a dragon design carved into the seat and placed it beside Menish.
Menish did not care if his rump covered plain wood or a design, but he could see Darven wished to honour him, so he accepted the fancier stool with thanks. Briefly he wondered if Azkun would prefer a dragon stool, or perhaps he would object to sitting on such a design. Strangely enough Menish himself felt relaxed even though he was in a Vorthenki house. His host knew better than to insult him by offering him women, and it was so good to be off that ship.