The minstrel did not reply immediately. He was backing off, away from the main stream of that endlessly moving crowd; backing towards a small space between a fruit stand and a table on which stood a dozen small crates, each containing a half-dozen or so small, live, edible, noisy birds.
Since Stulwig had shuffled after him, Cappen was able to say in a low voice, 'It was a very decisive time for me. The herbs you gave me produced a series of regurgitations which probably saved my life. I still believe I was served poisoned food.'
'I need advice,' said Alten Stulwig.
'We can talk here,' said Cappen.
It was not an easy story to tell. There was a rise and fall of street sounds. Several times he coughed from an intake of dust thrown at him by the heel of a passerby. But in the end he had completed his account. And it was then, suddenly, that the other man's eyes widened, as if a startling thought had come to him.
'Are you telling me that you are seriously pursuing the murderer of your father, despite that you have now discovered that the killer may well be the second most powerful Rankan god?'
It was the first time that meaning had been spoken so exactly. Stulwig found himself suddenly as startled as his questioner. Before he could say anything, the lean-faced, good-looking wandering singer spoke again: 'What - what happens if he ever
lets you catch up with him?'
The way the question was worded somehow steadied the healer. He said, 'As we know, Vashanka can come to me any time he wishes. My problem is that I do not know why he came to my father, nor why he would come to me? If I could find that out, then perhaps I could go to the temple of Ils and ask the priests for help.'
Cappen frowned, and said, 'Since you seem to have these powerful purposes, perhaps I should remind you of the myth.' He went on: 'You know the story. Vashanka is the god of warriors and weapons, the wielder of lightning, and other powerful forces. You know of this?'
'What I don't understand,' Stulwig replied helplessly, 'is why would such a being kill my father?'
'Perhaps-' a shrug - 'they were rivals for the affection of the same woman.' He went on, 'It is well known that the gods frequently assume human form in order to have concourse with human females.' The beautiful male face twisted. The bright eyes gazed into Stulwig's. 'I have heard stories,' Cappen said, 'that you, as your father before you, often accept a woman's favours in exchange for your services as a healer; the woman having nothing else to give pays the price in the time-honoured way of male-female. As a consequence you actually have many half-brothers out there in the streets, and you yourself - so it has been said have sired a dozen sons and daughters, unacknowledged because of course no one can ever be sure who is the father of these numerous waifs, unless there is unmistakable facial resemblance.'
Another shrug. 'I'm not blaming you. These are the truths of our world. But-'
He stopped. His hand extended gingerly, and touched Stulwig's stave. 'It's tough wood.'
Stulwig was uneasy. 'Awkward to handle in close quarters, and scarcely a weapon to ward off the god of lightning.'
'Nevertheless,' said Cappen, 'it's your best defence. Use it firmly. Keep it between you and any attacker. Yield ground and flee only when there's a good moment.'
'But,' protested Stulwig, 'suppose Vashanka seeks me out? Shall I pit my staff against the Rankan god of war?' When Cappen merely stood there, looking indifferent now, the healer continued in a desperate tone, 'There are stories of how Ils helped individuals in battle in the old days. But I grew up after the' Rankan conquest and -' he was gloomy - ' somehow the powers of the defeated god of old Ilsig didn't seem worth inquiring about. So I'm ignorant of what he did, or how.'
Abruptly, Cappen Varra was impatient. 'You asked for my advice,' he said curtly. 'I have given it to you. Goodbye.'
He walked off into the crowd.
They brought Stulwig before the prince, who recognized him. 'Why, it's the healer,' he said. Whereupon, he glanced question-ingly at Molin Torchbearer.
The hall of justice was all too brightly lit by the mid-afternoon sunlight. The sun was at that location in the sky whereby its rays shone directly through the slanting vents that were designed to catch, and siphon off, rain water ... as the high priest said accusingly, 'Your most gracious excellency, we found this follower of Ils in the temple of Vashanka.'
With the brilliant light pouring down upon him, Stulwig started towards the dais - and the two Hell Hounds, who had been holding him, let him go.
He stopped only when he came to the long wooden barrier that separated the accused criminals from the high seat, where the prince sat in judgement. From that fence, Stulwig spoke his protest. 'I did no harm, your highness. And I meant no harm. Tell his excellency-' he addressed Torchbearer - 'that your assistants found me on my knees before the-' he hesitated; he had been about to say 'the idol'. Uneasily, his mind moved over to the word, 'statue'. But he rejected that also, shuddering. After a long moment he finished lamely - 'before Vashanka himself, praying for his assistance.'
'Yes, but a follower of Ils praying to a son of Savankala-' Torchbearer was grim - 'absolutely forbidden by the doctrines of our religion.'
There seemed to be no answer that he could make. Feeling helpless, Stulwig waited. It was a year since he had last seen the youthful governor, who would now decide his fate. Standing there, Stulwig couldn't help but notice that there were changes in the young ruler's appearance - for the better, it seemed to him.
The prince, as all knew, was at this time twenty years old. He had been representative in Sanctuary for his older half-brother, the emperor, for only one of those years, but that year had brought a certain maturity where once there had been softness. It was still a boyish face, but a year of power had marked it with an appearance of confidence.
The young governor seemed undecided, as he said, 'Well - it does not look like a serious crime. I should think we would encourage converts rather than punishing them.' He hesitated, then followed the amenities. 'What penalty do you recommend?' He addressed the high priest of Rankan deities courteously.
There was a surprisingly long pause. Almost, it was as if the older man was having second thoughts. Torchbearer said finally, 'Perhaps, we should inquire what he was praying for. And then decide.'
'An excellent idea,' the prince agreed heartily.
Once more, then, Stulwig told his story, ending in a humble tone, 'Therefore, sir, as soon as I discovered that, apparently, the great gods themselves were involved in some disagreement, I decided to pray to Vashanka to ask what he wanted me to do; asked him what amends I could make for whatever my sin might be.'
He was surprised as he completed his account to see that the prince was frowning. And, in fact, moments later, the young governor bent down towards one of the men at a table below him to one side, and said something in a low voice. The aide's reply was equally inaudible.
The youngest ruler Sanctuary had ever had thereupon faced forwards. His gaze fixed on Stulwig's face. 'There are several people in these parts,' he said in an alarmingly severe voice, 'of whose whereabouts we maintain a continuing awareness. Cappen Varra, for several reasons, is one of these. And so, Mr Healer, I have to inform you that Cappen left Sanctuary half a moon ago, and is not expected back for at least two more moons.'
'B-b-bu-ut-' Stulwig began. And stopped. Then in a high-pitched voice: 'That man in the seeress's dream!' he stuttered. 'Long black hair to the shoulders. Ils in human form!'