However, knowing or unknowing, Jaldaric was a player in this game and was, so far, Hawklan’s only contact with whoever was manipulating events.
‘Good,’ Hawklan said, dismissing his last patient and dropping into a seat. ‘We’ve reached this point without serious injury or damage to anything other than our peace and our pride. But it’s been a near thing. I’d welcome an explanation, Jaldaric, as would Loman and Isloman.’
One of the surly-faced individuals spoke out. ‘The Lord Dan-Tor’s decreed this man an enemy of Fyorlund, Jaldaric. We shouldn’t even be talking to him. Tell him nothing.’
Jaldaric answered him wearily. ‘Esselt, sit down. This is a truce. Don’t dishonour us further with your foolish talk. I’ll be responsible to the Lord Dan-Tor for my decision.’
His attitude seemed to find favour with most of the High Guards present, and Esselt sat down and folded his arms sulkily without further comment. Hawklan was about to ask a question when Jaldaric spoke again.
‘Hawklan, are you an enemy of Fyorlund?’
The question was put so positively that Hawklan started.
‘Brilliant,’ said Esselt sarcastically. ‘Such mastery of the subtle techniques of interrogation.’
The men on either side of him eased away slightly, as if to avoid an impending impact.
Jaldaric rounded on him. ‘Esselt, keep that wicked tongue of yours to yourself or you’ll find your much vaunted favour with the Lord Dan-Tor won’t protect you from severe field punishment, and I’d remind you that we’re a long way from home. I’ll ask such questions as I see fit and we’ll all judge the answers for ourselves.’
Esselt held Jaldaric’s gaze for a moment and then lowered his eyes without replying. Jaldaric turned his still angry face back to Hawklan enquiringly.
‘I’m an enemy to no thing and no creature as far as I know,’ Hawklan said. ‘But I see this Lord Dan-Tor of yours imagines I am. I’d like to meet him and ask him why he should think this and why a Lord of Fyorlund should pose as a prancing tinker and bring corrupted wares to our village.’
Esselt looked up but did not speak. Jaldaric looked embarrassed.
‘The Lord Dan-Tor has returned alone to Fyorlund, Hawklan,’ he said. ‘And he doesn’t account to us for his actions. He’s the King’s closest adviser and friend. He’s greatly respected and has brought many changes to our land.’ Hawklan caught his eye and Jaldaric hesitated. ‘Although I think some of them have a price we weren’t originally aware of,’ he added reluctantly.
Both Loman and Isloman nodded.
‘What your Lord brought to our village carried a price in its every fibre,’ said Loman. ‘It wasn’t the work of Fyorlund craftsmen such as I’ve seen in the past. That had its own rough harmony. These objects were made by evil hands; hands that knew nothing of balance and harmony or, more probably, wilfully destroyed them.’
Hawklan briefly recalled the unreasoned horror he had felt when he looked into the face of the tiny mannequin marching up and down on his hand. A horror that drove him across the mountains to look for its source and, he presumed, was driving him still.
‘What do you know about craftsmen, you soil-tilling oaf?’ sneered Esselt. ‘Nothing can equal the work that comes from the Lord Dan-Tor’s workshops.’
Surprisingly, the insult seemed to roll off Loman without effect, and Esselt started as if his own venom had returned and struck him in the face. Hawklan looked straight at him.
‘Esselt, you’re a foolish young man, but I suspect it’s beyond my skill to make you understand why. You seem to be set on an ill course and, if your rash tongue doesn’t get you killed by one of your own kind, then I fear much worse lies ahead of you. Be silent and listen carefully.’
Although this was said without any menace, Esselt went white under Hawklan’s gaze.
Jaldaric watched the exchange impassively and for a while only the rustling hiss of the wind-blown trees could be heard in the tent. Then he looked at Loman sitting quietly, unperturbed by Esselt’s vicious taunt, and then at Hawklan, also sitting patiently, waiting. He made his decision.
‘We’re escort to the Lord Dan-Tor, Hawklan, but we know nothing of his purpose in being in Orthlund. What he ordered us to do here was contrary to everything that the High Guard should believe in and protect. I should have had no part of it. We betrayed freely and gener-ously given hospitality with foul treachery. I should have spoken up if only for the sake of my men. A High Guard should not obey orders mindlessly.’ Then, in reluctant admission, ‘But the Lord Dan-Tor has a way of…
His voice faded and there was an angry exclamation of disbelief from Esselt.
‘Enough, Jaldaric. You’re talking treason. This man’s an enemy of Fyorlund. Seize him now. There are enough of us to take them all.’
Jaldaric turned on him furiously. ‘I’ll not warn you again, Esselt. There’s been enough treachery. Besides, if memory serves me correctly, you were in charge of tonight’s guard, were you not? These "soil-tilling oafs" had little difficulty in slipping by your eagle-eyed watch, did they? And we could just as easily have been killed as knocked insensible for all the chance we had to defend ourselves. They’ve repaid our treachery with mercy, Esselt. You might care to ponder on that.’ Esselt glowered at him, but Jaldaric was warming to his work. ‘And pray, master of the guard, would you care to stroll out into the woods and see how many more such "oafs" might be waiting for us right now in these woods-their woods? Doubtless the Lord Dan-Tor will be most impressed by your contribution to this evening’s work.’
Hawklan raised a hand to his mouth to hide a smile.
Esselt fired a parting shot. ‘You use his name too lightly, Jaldaric,’ he said. ‘His sanction justifies all.’
Jaldaric gave him a look of contempt but did not reply. Then massaging his ribs he grimaced in distaste as he turned again to Hawklan. ‘I don’t know what to do, Hawklan,’ he said. ‘Personally, from what I’ve seen and heard, I can’t imagine that you or, for that matter, anything out of Orthlund could be an enemy to Fyorlund, but the Lord Dan-Tor has branded you as such, and this scheme for your capture was of his devising.’ He looked down, unable to meet Hawklan’s gaze. ‘Tirilen was to be used to lure you closer to Fyorlund. We were to move ahead of you so that you would follow until such time as his agents could safely take you prisoner. No one was to be hurt,’ he concluded, looking up again.
He tapped his fingers nervously on the table. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It was an error of judgement on my part to have anything to do with it. I think probably most of my men think so too.’
There were various signals of agreement from the others with the exception of a small group centred around Esselt.
‘What will happen to you?’ Hawklan asked.
Jaldaric shrugged. ‘We’ll return to Vakloss, report what’s happened and take the consequences. But what will happen to you?’he replied. ‘I’ll be subject to military discipline, but you’ve no such protection. Dan-Tor will send others for you… ’ He hesitated. ‘And rumour has it that he has darker agents than us when need arises.’
Hawklan nodded. ‘I think I may have met some already,’ he said.
Jaldaric looked at him. ‘I don’t know what you can do,’ he said. ‘Other than be on your guard. You seem more than capable of looking after yourself, and you’ve a friend in every Orthlundyn I’ve heard speak of you, but… ’
Hawklan nodded again. He had known his future course of action from the moment that Tirilen’s safety had been assured. It was impossible that he should attempt to recapture his old life. Loman’s words about hands that wilfully destroyed harmony and balance had crystallized his thoughts. So obvious was it that he wondered how he could not have seen it before.
He used the word evil to describe the creator of these events, but he had used it as a healer, to whom evil is an inadvertent disharmony that needs correction, an accidental movement away from balance and equilib-rium. Now, he realized, or perhaps remembered, that evil could be an active force. That some people knew of balance and harmony but chose deliberately to destroy them. People motivated by he knew not what, to take, and to take only. People so tormented that they could not rest while others enjoyed tranquillity.