‘It’s part of the disaster,’ said Shay Tal.
‘It’s what happens,’ he said innocently, and went on to tell of a small party of phagors he had stumbled across — not military ones, but humble fungusmongers, who had been as scared of him as he of them.
‘You risk your life so needlessly.’
‘I need to… I need to get away.’
‘I have never left Oldorando. I must, I must — I want to get away as you do. I’m imprisoned. But I tell myself we are all prisoners.’
‘I don’t see that, Shay Tal.’
‘You will see. First, fate moulds our character; then character moulds our fate. Enough of that — you’re too young.’
‘I’m not too young to help you. You know why the academy is feared. It may upset the smooth running of life. But you tell us that knowledge will contribute to a general good, isn’t that right?’
He regarded her half-smilingly, half-mockingly, and she thought, gazing back into his eyes, Yes, I understand how Oyre feels about you. She assented with an inclination of her head, smiling in return.
‘Then you need to prove your case.’
She raised a fine eyebrow and said nothing. He lifted his hand and uncurled his dirty fingers before her eyes. In his palm lay the ears of two grasses, one with seeds arranged in delicate bells, the other shaped like a miniature teazle.
‘Well, ma’am, can the academy pronounce upon these, and name them?’
After a moment’s hesitation, she said, ‘They are oats and rye, aren’t they?’ She searched in her mental store of folk wisdom. ‘They were once a part of — farming.’
‘I picked them beside the broken village, growing wild. There may have been fields of them once — before your catastrophe… There are other strange plants, too, climbing against the ruins in sheltered spots. You can make good bread with these grains. Deer like them — when the grazing’s good, the does will choose the oats and leave the rye.’
As he transferred the green things to her hands, she felt the rasp of the rye’s beard against her skin. ‘So why did you bring them to me?’
‘Make us better bread. You have a way with loaves. Improve the bread. Prove to everyone that knowledge contributes to the general good. Then the ban on the academy will be lifted.’
‘You are very thoughtful,’ she said. ‘A special person.’
The praise embarrassed him. ‘Oh, many plants are springing up in the wilderness which can be used to benefit us.’
As he made to go, she said, ‘Oyre is very moody nowadays. What is troubling her?’
‘You are wise — I thought you would know.’
Clutching the green seeds, she hitched her skins about her body and said warmly, ‘Come and talk to me more often. Don’t disregard my love for you.’
He smiled awkwardly and turned away. He was unable to express to Shay Tal or anyone else how witnessing the murder of Nahkri had clouded his life. Fools though they were, Nahkri and Klils were his uncles and had enjoyed life. The horror would not go away, though two years had passed. He also guessed that the difficulties he experienced with Oyre were part of the same involvement. Towards Aoz Roon, his feelings were now intensely ambivalent. The murder estranged his powerful protector even from his own daughter.
His silence since the deaths implicated him in Aoz Roon’s guilt. He had become almost as speechless as Dathka. Once he had fared forth on his solitary expeditions out of high spirits and a sense of adventure; now sorrow and unease drove him forth.
‘Laintal Ay!’ He turned at Shay Tal’s call.
‘Come along and sit with me until Vry returns.’
The summons pleased and shamed him. He went quickly with her into her old rough refuge above the pigs, hoping none of his hunter friends saw him go. After the cold outside, its fug made him sleepy. Shay Tal’s furfuraceous old mother sat in a corner against the garderobe, droppings from which fell immediately to the animals below. The Hour-Whistler sounded the hour; darkness was already gathering in the room.
Laintal Ay greeted the old woman and sat himself down on skins beside Shay Tal.
‘We’ll collect more seed and plant little fields of rye and oats,’ she said. He knew by her tone she was pleased.
After a while, Vry returned with another woman, Amin Lim, a plump, motherly young woman who had appointed herself Shay Tal’s chief follower. Amin Lim went straight to the rear wall of the room, sitting cross-legged with her back to the stonework; she wished only to listen, and to be within sight of Shay Tal.
Vry was also self-effacing. She was of comparatively slight build. Her breasts scarcely made more show under her silver-grey furs than two onions would have done. Her face was narrow, but not without its good looks, because her eyes were deep-set and brilliant against the pale skin. Not for the first time, Laintal Ay thought that Vry bore a resemblance to Dathka; perhaps that accounted for Dathka’s attraction to her.
The one feature that marked Vry out was her hair. It was rich and dark. When seen in sunshine, it disclosed itself as dark brown, rather than the bluey black of Oldorandan hair. Her hair was the only indication that Vry was of mixed extraction; her mother had been a slave woman from the south of Borlien, light of hair and complexion, who had died when she entered into captivity.
Too young to feel resentment against her captors, Vry had been fascinated by everything in Oldorando. The stone towers and the hot water pipes had particularly excited her childish admiration. She poured out questions and gave her heart to Shay Tal, who answered them. Shay Tal appreciated the child’s lively mind, and took care of her as she grew up.
Under Shay Tal’s tuition, Vry learned to read and write. She was one of the most ardent members of the academy. Of recent years, more children were born; in her turn, Vry was now teaching some of them the letters of the Olonets alphabet.
Vry and Shay Tal began to give Laintal Ay an account of how they had discovered a system of passageways under the town. With a grid of passages running north-south and east-west, the system connected all the towers, or had once done so; earthquakes, floods, and other natural disasters had blocked some passages. Shay Tal had hoped to reach the pyramid that stood half-buried by the sacrifice grounds, since she believed that structure to contain treasures of all kinds, but sludge had buried the necessary passages up to the roof.
‘Many things connect of which we have no understanding, Laintal Ay,’ she said. ‘We live on the surface of the earth, yet I have heard that in Pannoval people live comfortably beneath it, and in Ottassol to the south, according to some traders. Perhaps the passages connect with the world below, where live the gossies and fessups. If we could find a way to them, in the flesh and not just in the spirit, then we should possess much buried knowledge. That would please Aoz Roon.’
Overcome by the warmth, Laintal Ay merely nodded in drowsy fashion.
‘Knowledge is not just a buried thing like a brassimip,’ Vry said. ‘Knowledge can be generated by observation. I believe there are passages through the air similar to the passages beneath us. When it is night, I watch the stars as they rise and set in progression across the sky. Some go by different passages—’
‘They’re too far away to influence us,’ said Shay Tal.
‘Not so. All are Wutra’s. What he does there will influence us.’
‘You were afraid underground,’ said Shay Tal.
‘And I believe the stars scare you, ma’am,’ retorted Vry promptly.
Laintal Ay was amazed to hear this shy young woman, no older than he, drop her usual deferential manner and speak out to Shay Tal in this way; she had changed as much as the weather of late. Shay Tal appeared not to mind.