'It's a foretaste of good luck. Believe that, won't you, for I do. But stay here tomorrow – don't go out again – for Ankray's off to Lak. If he's to get back before nightfall he'll need all day.' 'Lak? Where is Lak?'
'Lak's the village I told you of, about eight or nine miles to the north. The Baron used to call it his secret cupboard. Glabron once robbed Lak and murdered a man there, so when the Baron had killed him I took care that they should learn of it. He promised them they should never again be troubled from Zeray and later, when he'd got control – or as much control as we ever had – he used to send them a few men at harvest and in the hut-building season – any he felt he could trust. In the end, one or two were actually allowed to settle in Lak. It was part of another scheme of the Baron's for settling men from Zeray throughout the province. Like so many of our schemes, it never got far for lack of material; but at least it achieved something – it gave us a private larder. Bel-ka-Trazet never asked for anything from Lak, but we traded, as I told you, and the elder thought it prudent to send him gifts from time to time. Since he died, though, they must have been waiting on events, for we've had no message, and while I was alone I was afraid to send Ankray so far. Now you're here, he can go and try our luck. I've got a little money I can give him. He's known in Lak, of course, and they might let us have some fresh food for the sake of old times.' 'Wouldn't we be safer there than in Zeray – all four of us?'
'Why, yes – if they would suffer us. If Ankray gets the chance tomorrow, he's going to tell the chief about the flight of Farrass and Thrild and about the Tuginda and yourself. But Kelderek, you know the minds of village elders – half ox, half fox, as they say. Their old fear of Zeray will have returned; and if we show them that we are in haste to leave it, they will wonder why and fear the more. If we could take refuge in Lak, we might yet find a way out of this trap: but everything depends on showing no haste. Besides, we can't go until the Tuginda has recovered. The most that Ankray will be able to do tomorrow is to see how the land Kes. Are your fish ready? Good. I'll cook three of them and put the other two by. We'll feast tonight, for to tell you the truth -' she dropped her voice in a pretence of secrecy and leaned towards him, smiling and speaking behind her hand – 'neither Ankray nor the Baron ever had the knack of catching fish!'
When they had eaten and Ankray, after drinking to the fisherman's skill in the sharp wine, had gone to watch by the Tuginda while he wove a fresh length of line out of thread from an old cloak and a strand of Melathys' hair, Kelderek, sitting close to the girl so that he could keep his voice low, recounted all that had happened since the day in Bekla when Zelda had first told him of his belief that Erketlis could not be defeated. Those things which had all but destroyed him, those things of which he was most ashamed – the elder who had thought him a slave-trader, the Streels of Urtah, the breaking of his mind upon the battlefield, Elleroth's mercy, the reason for it and the manner of his leaving Kabin – these he told without concealment, looking into the fire as though alone, but never for a moment losing his sense of the sympathy of this listener, to whom defilement, regret and shame had long been as familiar as they had become to himself. As he spoke of the Tuginda's explanation of what had happened at the Streels and of the ordained and now inevitable death of Shardik, he felt Melathys' hand laid gently upon his arm. He covered it with his own, and it was as though his longing for her broke in upon and quenched the flow of his story. He fell silent, and at length she said, 'And Lord Shardik – where is he now?' 'No one knows. He crossed the Vrako, but I believe he may be already dead. I have wished myself dead many times, but now -' 'Why then did you come to Zeray?'
'Why indeed? For the same reason as any other criminal. To the Yeldashay I'm an outlawed slave-trader. I was driven across the Vrako; and once across it, where else can a man go but Zeray? Besides, as you know, I fell in with the Tuginda. Yet there is another reason, or so I believe. I have disgraced and perverted the divine power of Shardik, so that all that now remains to God is his death. That disgrace and death will be required of me, and where should I wait but in Zeray?' 'Yet you have been speaking of saving our lives by going to Lak?'
'Yes, and if I can I will. A man on the earth is but an animal and what animal will not try to save its life while there remains a chance?'
Gently she withdrew her hand. 'Now listen to the wisdom of a coward, a murderer's woman, a defiled priestess of Quiso. If you try to save your life you will lose it. Either you can accept the truth of what you have told me and wait humbly and patiently upon the outcome – or else you can run up and down this land, this rats' cage, like any other fugitive, never admitting to what is past and using a little more fraud to gain a little more time, until both run out.' 'The outcome?*
'An outcome there will surely be. Since I turned and saw the Tuginda standing at the Baron's grave, I have come to understand a great deal – more than I can put into words. But that is why I am here with you and not with Farrass and Thrild. In the sight of God there is only one time and only one story, of which all days on earth and all human events are parts. But that can only be discovered – it cannot be taught'
Puzzled and daunted by her words, he nevertheless felt comforted that she should think him worth her solicitude, even while he grasped – or thought he grasped – that she was advising him to resign himself to death. Presently, to prolong the time of sitting thus close beside her, he asked, 'If the Yeldashay come, they may well help the Tuginda to return to Quiso. Shall you return with her?'
'I am – what you know. I can never set foot on Quiso again. It would be sacrilege.' 'What will you do?'
'I told you – wait upon the outcome. Kelderek, you must have faith in life. I have been restored to faith in life. If only they would understand it, the task of the disgraced and guilty is not to struggle to redeem themselves but simply to wait, never to cease to wait, in the hope and expectation of redemption. Many err in setting that hope aside, in losing belief that they are still sons and daughters.'
He shook his head, gazing into her smiling, wine-flushed face with such a look of bewilderment that she burst out laughing; and then, leaning forward to stir the fire, half-murmured, half-sang the refrain of an Ortelgan lullaby which he had long forgotten. Where does the moon go every month And where have the old years fled? Don't trouble your poor old head, my dear, Don't trouble your poor old head.
'You didn't know I knew that, did you?' 'You're happy,' he said, feeling envy.
'And you will be,' she answered, taking his hands in her own. 'Yes, even though we die. There, that's enough of riddling for one night; it's time to sleep. But I'll tell you something easier, and this you can understand and believe' He looked at her expectantly, and she said with emphasis, 'That was the best fish I've ever eaten in Zeray. Catch some more!'
46 The Kynat
Opening his eyes next morning, Kelderek knew at once that he had been woken by some unusual sound. Uncertain, he lay as still as though in wait for a beast. Suddenly the sound came again, so close that he started. It was the call of the kynat – two smooth, fluting notes, the second higher than the first, followed by a chirring trill cut suddenly short. On the instant he was back in Ortelga, with the gleam from the Telthearna reflected on the inside of the hut roof, the smell of green wood-smoke and his father whistling as he sharpened his knife on a stone. The beautiful, gold-and-purple bird came to the Telthearna in spring but seldom remained, continuing its passage northward. Despite its marvellous plumage, to kill it was unlucky and ill-omened, for it brought the summer and bestowed blessing, announcing its good news to all – 'KynatI Kynat churrrrr – ak!' ('Kynat, Kynat will tell!') Welcome and propitious hero of many songs and tales, it would be heard and blest for a month and then be gone, leaving behind it, like a gift, the best season of the year. Biting his lower lip in his stealth, Kelderek crept to the window, noiselessly lifted the stout bar, opened the shutter a crack and looked out.