15 Ta-Kominion
Kelderek crouched listening in the dark. There was no moon and the forest overhead shut out the stars. He could hear the bear among the trees and tried once again to make out whether it was moving away. But silence returned, broken only by the vibrant rarking of the frogs on the distant shore. After some time his straining ears caught a low growl. He called, 'Peace, Lord Shardik. Peace, my lord,' and lay down, hoping that the bear might rest if it felt that he himself was tranquil. Soon he realized that his fingers were thrusting into the soft ground and that he was holding himself tense, ready to leap to his feet He was afraid: not only of Lord Shardik in this uncertain, suspicious mood, but also because he knew that Shardik himself was uneasy – of what, he could not tell.
For days past the bear had been wandering through the woods and open places of the island; sometimes splashing among the reeds along the southern, landward shore, sometimes turning inland to climb the central ridge, yet always tending eastwards, downstream, towards Ortelga behind its jungle wall of traps and palisades. Night and day his votaries followed him. In all their hearts burned the fear of violent death, overborne by a wild hope and faith – hope for they knew not what, faith in the power of Lord Shardik returned to his people through fire and water.
Kelderek himself remained constantly near the bear, observing all that it did, attentive to its moods and ways – its frightening habit of ramping from side to side in excitement or anger; its indolent curiosity; the slow-moving strength, like that of a great head of water, with which it would turn over a heavy stone, lift a fallen log or push down a young tree; the dog-like snarling of its lip in suspicion, its shrinking from the heat of the rocks in the mid-day glare and its preference for sleeping near water. At each sunset the Singing was repeated, the women forming their wide half-circle about the bear, sometimes smoothly and symmetrically in open ground, often with more difficulty among trees or on rocky slopes. During the early days most of those in the camp, ecstatic in their wonder and joy at the return of Shardik, came forward to offer themselves, eager to show their devotion greater than their fear and to put to the proof the age-old skills they had learned on the Ledges but never envisaged that they would be required to practise in earnest On the fourth evening, when the singers had formed a wide circle round a grove near the shore, the bear suddenly burst through the undergrowth and struck down the priestess Anthred with a blow that almost broke her body in two. She died at once. The Singing ceased, Shardik disappeared into the forest and it was not until noon of the following day that Kelderek, having tracked him with difficulty for many hours, found him at the foot of a rocky bank on the further side of the island. When the Tuginda reached the place she walked forward alone and stood in prayer until it became plain that Shardik would not attack her. That evening she led the Singing herself, moving without haste and gracefully as a girl whenever the bear came towards her.
A day or two later Sheldra, stepping backwards on a steep slope, stumbled and struck her head. Shardik, however, ignored her, shambling past as she lay dazed among the stones. When Kelderek raised her to her feet she resumed her place without a word.
At length, as the Tuginda had envisaged in speaking to Kelderek of the days gone by, Shardik seemed to become accustomed to the attendance of the women and at times almost to play his part -towering erect and gazing at them, or prowling back and fordi as though to try whether they had their art at command. Three or four – Sheldra among them – proved able to carry themselves steadily in his presence. Others, including some who had spent years in the service of Quiso and acquired every inflection and cadence, after a few evenings could no longer control their fear. To these Kelderek allowed respites, calling in turn upon one or another to play her part as best she could. As the Singing began he would watch them closely, for Shardik was keen to perceive fear and seemed angered by it; glaring with a look half-intelligent, half-savage, until the victim, her last shreds of courage consumed, broke the circle and turned tail, weeping with shame. As often as he could Kelderek would forestall this anger, calling the girl out of the circle before the bear came down upon her. His own life he risked daily, but Shardik never so much as threatened him, lying quictly while the hunter approached to bring him food or examine his almost-healed wounds.
Indeed, as the days passed, returning thoughts of Ortelga and the High Baron came to cause him more fear than did Lord Shardik. Daily it grew harder to find and kill sufficient game, and he realized that in their eastward course down the island they must already have come close to exhausting its never-plentiful resources. As often as their wanderings brought them to the southern shore, the mainland bank of the Telthearna showed nearer across the tapering strait How far were they now from Ortelga? What watch was Bel-ka-Trazet keeping upon them and what would happen when they came – as at last they must – to the Dead Belt, with its maze of concealed snares? Even if he were able in some way to induce Shardik to turn back, what could follow but starvation? Daily, with the women looking on, he and the Tuginda stood before the bear and prayed aloud, 'Reveal your power, Lord Shardik! Show us what we are to do!' Alone with the Tuginda, he spoke of his anxieties, but was met always by a calm, untroubled faith with which, had it come from anyone else, he would have lost patience.
Now, crouching in the dark, he was full of doubt and uncertainty. For the first time since he had found him in the pit, he knew himself afraid of Shardik. All day they had killed no game and at sunset, such had been the bear's threatening ferocity that the Singing had faltered and ceased, ragged and unpropitious. As night fell, Shardik had wandered away into dense forest Kelderek, taking Sheldra with him, had followed as best he could, expecting at any moment to find himself the quarry and the bear the hunter; until at last after how long he could not tell (for he could not see the stars), he had suddenly caught the sounds of Shardik's rambling movement not far off. There was no telling whether the bear would return to attack them, settle to sleep or go further into the forest and Kelderek, already weary, set himself to remain alert and wait.
After a time Sheldra slept, but he himself lay listening intently to each minute noise in the dark. Sometimes he thought he could hear the bear's breathing or the rustle of leaves disturbed by its claws. As the hours wore on he became intuitively aware that its mood had changed. It was no longer surly and ready to attack, but uneasy. He had never known or imagined Lord Shardik afraid. What could be the cause? Might some dangerous creature be close at hand – a great cat swum from the north bank, or one of the giant, nocturnal snakes of which Bel-ka-Trazet had spoken? He rose to his feet and called once more, 'Peace, Lord Shardik. Your power is of God.' At this moment, from somewhere in the darkness, a man whistled. Kelderek stood rigid. The blood pulsed in his head – five, six, seven, eight. Then, quietly but unmistakably, the whistler ran through the refrain of a song, 'Senandril na kora, senandril na ro'. An instant later Sheldra grasped his wrist 'Who is it, my lord?' 'I cannot tell,' he whispered. 'Wait'
The girl strung her bow with barely a sound and then guided his hand to the hilt of the knife at her belt He drew it and crept forward. Close by, to his left, the bear growled and coughed. The thought of Lord Shardik pierced by the arrows of unseen enemies filled him with a desperate haste and anger. He began to push his way more quickly through the bushes. Immediately, from the darkness on his right a low voice called, 'Who's there?'
Whoever had spoken, at least he himself was now between him and Shardik. Peering, he could just make out the trunks of trees black against a paler darkness – the open sky above the river. A faint wind stirred the leaves and a star shone twinkling through.