The strangest thing of all was what happened with the black, tuft-eared cat. For two days after Uasti’s death, I could not find her, and where she went I do not know, for we were traveling by then. But on the third day, early in the morning, I woke and found her seated on my belly, washing herself, and going up and down with my breathing. I fed her and did not expect anything from her, but she would follow me about the wagon and the camp, when we made one, and sit on my knees purring. She, too, it seemed, had let me replace Uasti. I loved her beauty, and was glad of her, and the bond did not impose a conscious tie on me.
Geret was my other concern. He went in fear of me, a fear so deep now, he would never lose it. This suited me, but I did not want him to seem so suspiciously afraid of me before the wagoners, only to respect my position as healer, as they would think fitting.
At our next camp—under an overhang, a poorly protected spot, but caves were rare now—I went to his wagon. He was drinking after the evening meal with a few of the other merchants, but when he saw me, he hurried them out, and sat waiting nervously.
“Geret.” I said, sitting opposite to him in my healer’s black, the new robe the women had made me. “You have done very well. Sibbos extends his favor to you and though we have had our differences before, I am well pleased. I have heard them say that in a day or so—perhaps the day after tomorrow—we will reach the tunnel through the Ring. I have heard too that this is in its way as dangerous a journey as through the snow. It is time the wagons had a true leader, not a group of men arguing, who all claim the title from time to time. It seems to me that you are the strongest and best organized, therefore it should he you.”
I could see he was pleased. To have complete and acknowledged control of the wagons, to be factual instead of titular head, would carry many advantages. It would also end the bickering, and the mishaps and trouble that bickering always causes.
“Yes.” he said. “yes. Uasti. But how can I do it? One day they call for me. the next for Oroll or another. I have my men but so have Oroll and the rest.”
“I will do it for you.” I said. “I have the ear of Sibbos, and it is the god’s mind that I speak.”
He looked crafty suddenly, knowing, amused, and not at all in awe.
“But,” I said, “remember, if you are the temporal power, I am the spiritual. The fire of the god be upon you if you disobey me once you lead.”
His face drained yellowish.
“Yes, healer,” he said quickly, “I’ll remember, I swear it.”
In a way. this should have been more difficult than it was. However, there were certain things in favor of Geret. He was not a particularlv strong character for all his pomposity, yet he had cunning. Oroll, who should have carried more weight of authority, was too indecisive when it came to the point of action.
Geret, on the other hand would act, even if wrongly. The wagoners were split into six sections, the people and servants of Geret’s caravan, and the people and servants of the other five. Originally each group owed allegiance to its own merchant-lord, but, as there were substantially more men and women in Geret’s portion than in any other of the single units, their voice tended to be loudest. In addition to this Geret’s henchmen wore his own blue and brown uniform. All the merchants had a guard, but Geret’s, dressed up for the occasion, tended to act in a more soldierly fashion, given this psychological impetus.
The last factor in Geret’s favor was his cargo—wheat and corn and the ready-made flour. It was his work to provide bread for the journey, and, while they could have lived on their stores of salt meat, dry cheese, and fruits, the warm fresh bread was a comfort to them. This seemed perhaps the best explanation as to why the whole caravan had styled itself “Geret’s people” from time to time. But, like the god, they had only turned to him when they were hungry.
In the matter of the god, I had already altered their habits. His power was important to me for it was the cloak of mine. Therefore I offered a prayer to him, morning and evening, and they had fallen into the way of praying with me. When I helped the sick, I invoked his name. When we made camp, the robed statue was set up in shelter, and I would give him thanks for our safety. No one was commanded to these worshipings, but most came. So belief had become an ever present thing, more important than before.
Now it was very useful to me, for it was through Sibbos that I made Geret leader.
When I went to pray before him, the morning after I had visited Geret’s wagon, I stood rather longer than usual, then turned and looked back at the crowd. It was one of the endless iron-gray days, bitterly cold, and they were huddled close.
“I must read the auguries,” I said to them, “for there is danger.”
I cast out the grains and stood over them for a long time, as if I saw something, then turned again and said: “There is an animal walking on six legs, but the head is severed, and I cannot find it in the pattern.
Before the animal is a pit, into which it will fall, because it has no head to guide it.” They murmured, and I spread out my hands and cried: “It is the wagon people. Six parts without a leader.”
They broke into shouts and yells then of alarm and surprise, calling out the names of their own particular merchant lord.
I held up my hand for silence, and when I had it, I said, “We must choose one leader for us all. It must be done. This is Sibbos’ warning. Let us pray to him to direct us.”
Then I began the prayer which I had used to him before, in the mornings and evenings.
“Great god, guide us through the dark places, and let no harm come to us. Protect us from danger and distress. Let us judge well in what we do. Give us our bread and our drink, our quiet and our rest. And when we call upon you, do not turn aside from us.”
It was a simple thing, but their minds were open and naive. The phrase, “give us our bread,” so innocently placed in the prayer, unconsciously recalled Geret, the wheat merchant. When it was finished, I looked at them and asked: “Who will you elect for your leader?”
I had told Geret that when I said this, some of his men and women must shout his name. This they did, and, all at once, the whole crowd had caught up the cry. They swirled around and made for his wagon, and soon Geret came out in apparent amazement, and reluctantly agreed to become their master.
As for Oroll and the others, they grumbled a little, but agreed at last that the leadership was nothing in point of fact, and might be useful as a spur and comfort. As I had guessed, Oroll was too indecisive, and the others followed him and accepted the situation.
Things were easy after that. Geret was their lord, but I ruled Geret. For once I felt the strength of command, and freedom, and a sense of identity. I had pored long hours over the old yellow maps of the land we were going to, beyond the Ring and the Water. And now, when I dreamed, I sensed ahead of me the green cool beckoning of the Jade. Incredibly, it seemed, I had guided myself, without knowing, toward my goal. Not once had I deviated, only slowed myself in my time with the village, with Darak, and now with the wagons. Never had the awareness of an imminent fulfillment been so intense. I would wake, burning with joy, trembling and alight with expectation. Soon, soon.
On the second day from Geret’s election, we came to a high place, a treacherous climb among the white-crusted rocks, to a black round hole: the Tunnel through the Ring.
Part II: The Water
1
It was a black journey, and lasted ten days.
The Tunnel was perhaps some twenty-five feet wide and about twenty feet high, though in places it varied, the walls and ceiling drawing out or in. At all times there was space enough to get through, and at intervals we found wide cave rooms where we could halt and make a camp. The worst of it was the dripping damp, the hollow soundlessness which would pick up a thought and seem to speak it at you, and the darkness that fluttered at the torches like gigantic bats. And there was, too, the nameless fear.