Shannow stepped from the tent and made his way to his horse. He fed the beast some grain, then spread his blankets on the ground beside it. He could have told them more: the glowing lights that burned without flame, the navigational devices — all the knowledge he had gained from the Guardians during the Hellborn War. But what would it serve? Shannow was caught in the no-man's land of the Arcane debate.
Instinctively he longed for the Oldview to be correct, but events had forced a different understanding on him. The old world was gone. Shannow had no wish to see it rise from the ashes.
Just as he was drifting to sleep, he heard a gentle footfall on the earth. He drew a pistol and waited.
The slender figure of Klaus Monet crouched beside him. 'I am sorry to intrude on you, Meneer Shannow. But… you seem a man of action, sir. And we sorely need someone like you.'
Shannow sat up. 'Explain yourself.'
Monet leaned in close. 'This expedition was led by Boris; we won the finance from a group of Longviewers in the east. But since we have been here, a man named Scayse has become involved in the project. He has put his own men — led by Deiker — in charge, and now some of the finds are being sent to him in Pilgrim's Valley.'
'What kind of finds?'
'Gold bars, gems from steel boxes in one of the deep rooms. It is theft, Meneer Shannow.'
'Then put a stop to it,' Shannow advised.
'I am a scholar, sir.'
'Then study — and do not interfere with matters beyond your strength.'
'You would condone such thievery?'
Shannow chuckled. 'Thievery? Who owns this ship? No one. Therefore there is no theft. Two groups of men desire what is here. The strongest will take what he wills. That is the way of life, Meneer Monet; strength always decides.'
'But with you, we would be stronger.'
'Perhaps… but you will never know. I leave in the morning.'
'Are you afraid, Meneer Shannow, or do you just desire more coin? We can pay.'
'You could not afford me, sir. Now leave me to sleep.'
The morning sky was grey and rain on his face woke Shannow soon after dawn. He rose from his blankets and rolled them into a tight bundle, tying them with strips of oiled hide. Then he put on his heavy, double-shouldered topcoat and saddled the stallion. Two men came walking towards him through the misty rain and Shannow turned and waited.
'Looks like you beat us to it,' said the first, a broad-shouldered man with a gaping gap where his front teeth should have been. His comrade was shorter and more lean; both were wearing pistols.
'Well, don't let us stop you,' continued the big man. 'Be on your way.'
Shannow remained silent.
'Are you deficient in the hearing?' the second man asked. 'You are not wanted here.'
A small crowd had gathered in the background and Shannow caught sight of Haimut and Klaus Monet. Of Deiker there was no sign.
'That's it, let's help him on his way,' said the big man, stepping in; but Shannow's hand shot up with fingers extended, and hammered into his throat. He fell back choking, then sank to his knees. Shannow's eyes fixed on the second man.
'Be so kind as to tie my blanket roll to my saddle,' he said softly.
The man swallowed hard and licked his lips, his hand hovering over the pistol butt.
'Today,' stated Shannow, 'is not a good day to die. A man should at least see the sun in the heavens.'
For several seconds the man stood tense; then he cast a nervous glance at his comrade who was kneeling and holding his throat, his breathing hoarse and ragged. He knew he should grab for his pistol, but could not make his hand obey him. His eyes flicked up to meet Shannow's.
'Damn you!' he whispered. His hand fell away from the gun and he moved to the blanket roll, swinging it over the back of the saddle and tying it into place.
'Thank you,' said Shannow. 'And now see to your friend.' He stepped into the saddle and swung the stallion towards the norm. The crowd parted and he resisted the urge to glance back. Now was the moment of greatest danger. But there was no shot. He angled the stallion down to where Frey McAdam's wagon had been camped; it was gone.
Shannow was angry with himself. There was no need to have shamed the men Deiker had obviously sent to see him on his way. He should have mounted and left as they had asked him.
Only pride had prevented him from doing just that, and pride was a sin in the eyes of the Almighty.
That is why you cannot find Jerusalem, Shannow, he told himself. Your sins burden you down.
There is no Jerusalem!
The thought leapt unbidden to his mind and he shivered. He had seen sb much in these last few years and his doubts were many. But what choice do I have, he wondered. If there is no Jerusalem, then all is in vain. And so the search must go on. For what purpose? For me! For as long as I search, then Jerusalem exists — if only in my mind. And that is chough. I need no more.
You lie, Shannow! Yes, yes, I lie. But what does that prove? I must search. I must know. Where next mil you search? Beyond the Great Wall. And if not there? To the ends of the earth and the borders of Hell!
Coming to the top of the rise, he turned west seeking the pass through the mountains. He rode the deer trails for more than two hours before joining the main track, which was scarred by the rims of wagon wheels and the hooves of many horses. The rain had ceased and the sun broke clear-of the clouds. He rode more warily now, halting often and studying his surroundings. With the sun at its height he stopped and rested in the shadow of a looming natural pillar of stone. It was cool here and he read his Bible for an hour, enjoying the Song of Solomon. By mid-afternoon the Jerusalem Man had passed the mountains and was following a narrow track down into the valley beyond.
To the west he could see the McAdam wagon, following the wider trail which led into the town.
To the north, beyond the buildings, the valley stretched for miles, ending in a huge wall that vanished into the distance. Shannow drew a long glass from his bags and through it he scanned the Wall. It was massive and even at this distance he could make out the flowers and lichens sprouting between its great blocks. He transferred his gaze to the sky, seeking the wonders beyond the Wall, but only huge white clouds could be seen gently rolling across the vault of Heaven. Hitching himself round in the saddle, he focused on the McAdam wagon. The woman was at the reins; he could see her honey-blonde hair and the flesh of her right leg as it rested against the brake. The children were walking behind, leading the horse. They would be in the town long before Shannow. He studied the buildings below. Most were wood structures — some timber, some log — but there were stone dwellings of several storeys, mostly at the eastern end.
There appeared to be one main thoroughfare stretching for around four hundred paces and then, in the shape of a 'T', buildings branched north and south of it. It was a thriving community and many more dwellings were in the process of completion. Beyond the town was a meadow packed with tents, large and small, and Shannow could see more than a dozen cook-fires. Families were moving in to setde the land and soon Pilgrim's Valley would house a city.
Shannow considered avoiding the town and riding on to the Wall, and beyond. But the stallion needed rest and grain feeding and the Jerusalem Man had not slept in a bed in what seemed an age. He rubbed at his chin and imagined a long, hot bath and the feel of a razor on his face. His clothes too were way overdue for a cleaning, and his boots were leaf-thin. Flicking a glance at the wagon, he could no longer see the driver nor the flesh of her leg at the brake.
CHAPTER TEN
Oshere eased his swollen, misshapen frame into the room and tried to sit down in a wide chair.
The discomfort was supreme; the muscles of his back no longer stretched as they should. He rose and squatted on his haunches, watching the Dark Lady as she sat, statue still, at the huge desk.