Shardik

'I see. And you commune with the reservoir from the profound depths of your aquatic knowledge, do you?'

'I've no idea how to look after a reservoir, but while I'm here I mean to find someone who has and take him back with me, that's it.'

'And is he up here now for the Council, your charming old bull-breeding chum?' 'S'marr? Not he – he's sent his deputy. He's no fool.' 'How long have you been governor of Kabin?'

'About three days. I tell you, all this happened very recently. General Zelda was recruiting in those parts, as it happened, and S'marr saw him the next day. I'd not been back home more than one night when he sent an officer to tell me I was appointed governor and order me to come to Bekla in person. So here I am, Elleroth, you see, and the first person I run into is you!' 'Elleroth Ban – bow three times before addressing me.'

'Well, we have become an exalted pair, that's it. Ban of Sarkid? How long have you been Elleroth Ban?'

'Oh, a few years now. My poor father died a while back. But tell me, how much do you know about the new, modern Bekla and its humane and enlightened rulers?'

At this moment two of the other delegates overtook them, talking earnestly in Katrian Chistol, the dialect of eastern Terekenalt. One, as he passed, turned his head and continued to stare unsmilingly over his shoulder for some moments before resuming his conversation.

'You ought to be more careful,' said Mollo. 'Remarks like that shouldn't be made at all in a place like this, let alone overheard.'

'My dear fellow, how much Yeldashay do you suppose those cultivated pumpkins understand? Their bodies scarcely cover their minds with propriety. Their oafishness is indecently exposed.'

'You never know. Discretion – that's one thing I've learnt and I'm alive to prove it.'

'Very well, we will indulge your desire for privacy, chilly though it may be to do so. Yonder is a fellow with a boat, yo ho, and no doubt he has his price, like everyone in this world.'

Addressing the boatman, as he had Sheldra, in excellent Beklan, with scarcely a trace of Yeldashay accent, Elleroth gave him a ten-meld piece, fastened his fox-fur cloak at the throat, turned up the deep collar round the back of his head and stepped into the boat, followed by Mollo.

As the man rowed them out towards the centre of the lake and the choppy wavelets began to set up a regular, hollow slapping under the bow, Elleroth remained silent, staring intently across at the grazing land that extended from the southern side of the King's house, round the western shore of the lake and on to the northern slopes of Crandor in the distance. 'Lonely, isn't it?' he said at last, still speaking in Yeldashay. 'Lonely?* replied Mollo. 'Hardly that.'

'Well, let us say relatively unfrequented – and that ground's nice and smooth – no obstacles. Good.' He paused, smiling at Mollo's frowning incomprehension.

'But to resume where we were so poignantly interrupted. How much do you know about Bekla and these bear-bemused river-boys from the Telthearna?' 'I tell you – next to nothing. I've had hardly any time to find out.'

'Did you know, for example, that after the battle in the Foothills, five and a half years ago, they didn't bury the dead – neither their own nor Gel-Ethlin's? They left them for the wolves and the kites.'

'I'm not surprised to hear it. I've been on that field, as I told you, and I've never been so glad to leave anywhere. My two fellows were almost crazy with fear – and that was in daylight I did what had to be done for Shrain's sake and came away quick.' 'Did you see anything?'

'No, it was just what we all felt. Oh, you mean the remains of the dead? No – we didn't stray off the road, you sec, and that was cleared soon after the battle by men who came down from Gelt to do it, so I heard.'

'Yes. The Ortelgans, of course, didn't bother. But it wasn't really to be expected that they would, was it?'

'By the time the battle was won the rains had set in and night was falling, wasn't that it? They were desperate to get on to Bekla.'

'Yes, but no Ortelgan did anything after Bekla had fallen either, although there must have been plenty of coming and going between Bekla and their Telthearna island. I find that terribly tedious as a subject for contemplation, don't you? It bores me to distraction.' 'I hadn't considered it before in quite that way.' 'Start now.'

The boat, turning, had followed first the southern and then the eastern shore of the Barb and as it approached them the cranes flew up in a clattering, white-winged flock. Elleroth bent his head over the bow, idly running one finger through the water along the outline of his own shadow as it moved across the surface. After some time Mollo said, 'I've never understood why the city fell. They took it by surprise and smashed in the Tamarrik gate. Well, all right, so the Tamarrik gate was military nonsense. But what was Santil-ke-Erketlis doing? Why didn't he try to hold the citadel? You could hold that place for ever.'

He pointed back at the sheer face of the quarry, three quarters of a mile away, and the summit of Crandor above.

'He did hold it,' answered Elleroth, 'right through the rains and after – getting on for four months altogether. He was hoping for some relief from Ikat, or even from the troops at Kabin – the ones your trusty bull-breeding friend attended to. The Ortelgans let him alone for a long time – they'd come to have a healthy respect for him, I dare say – but when the rains were over and he was still there they began to worry. They needed to put an army in the field towards Ikat, you see, and there was no one to spare to keep Santil contained in the citadel. So they got rid of him.' 'Got rid of him – just like that? What do you mean? How?'

Elleroth struck the surface lightly with the edge of his hand, so that a thin, pattering crescent of water-drops flew backwards along the side of the boat.

'Really, Mollo, you don't seem to have learnt much about military methods during your travels. There were plenty of children in Bekla, even if all of them weren't children of the citadel garrison. They hanged two children every morning in sight of the citadel. And of course there were plenty of mothers, too, at liberty to go up to the citadel and beg Erketlis to come to terms before the Ortelgans became even more inventive. After some days he offered to go, provided he was allowed to march out fully armed and proceed unmolested to Ikat. Those terms the Ortelgans accepted. Three days later they tried to attack him on the march, but he'd been expecting something of the sort and succeeded in discouraging them quite effectively. That happened near my home in Sarkid, as a matter of fact.'