‘They are like pups,’ he said. He paused before the line of adults. Behind the group stood Ghost. ‘Playful, inquisitive — just wonderful.’ He gestured for Ghost to come through. ‘You can’t still be afraid.’
Ghost glanced around, first at the adult kreels, then back at Gilwyn. Nearby, Emerald was asleep beside a rock, sunning herself. Ghost’s drowa clopped at the ground uneasily.
‘I want to go, Gilwyn,’ Ghost pronounced. ‘We don’t have much time. We can’t lie around like this.’
‘I know,’ Gilwyn replied, ‘and I’m ready. Just stand next to me, all right? If you push your way through they won’t stop you.’
‘Thanks, but I can see fine from here.’
‘Ghost, come on. .’
Ghost let out a dreadful groan. Finally he stepped closer, trying hard not to disturb the mother kreels that had come to watch their offspring.
‘That’s it,’ Gilwyn coached. ‘Just go easy.’
Squeezing past the kreels, Ghost let out his breath when he reached the other side. His already pale face looked bloodless.
‘Now what?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t bring a leash big enough for all of them.’
‘We won’t need a leash,’ said Gilwyn confidently. ‘They’ll follow.’
He turned back to the river and locked minds with the young kreels. He counted them instantly — forty individuals, all chattering in his brain at the same time. Ruana was with them, guiding them, lying over all their thoughts like a blanket. He spread out to them, letting Ruana bolster him, speaking to them all and asking the important question.
Will you come?
He was not Jadori. The blood that bonded these creatures to his dark-skinned hosts did not course through him, and so he did not command the kreels. Instead, he requested. He told them of his great need and of Jador, and how their brothers and sisters had died in battle, glorious and brave. Their reptilian minds understood this easily. For all their playfulness, they were fierce creatures. Fearless, the thought of battle intrigued them.
‘Gilwyn?’ Ghost asked softly. ‘Are you talking to them? What are they saying?’
Gradually the kreels came out of the water or loped along the sand to get closer. Emerald awoke from her slumber, like a dog that’s heard a whistle. The giant adults lowered their necks in curiosity. They began to rumble. Ghost turned to look at them, then tugged Gilwyn’s sleeve.
‘Uh, Gilwyn?’
Gilwyn felt the adults’ stress. He tried to split his mind one more time to calm them. The young — all of them — drew closer. His mind rang with their voices.
‘They’re coming,’ he said. ‘They understand me.’
‘But the big ones-’
‘I know!’
Gilwyn strained to hold his contact with the youngsters. He called out to Ruana for help. Instantly the Akari was with him, granting new strength. Gilwyn turned to face the adults. Each enormous, they towered over him. He put up his hands and let his mind reach them.
‘They’re parents,’ said Gilwyn. ‘They’re afraid for their children.’
Ghost couldn’t help himself; he let his hand fall to his sword. ‘Explain it to them, Gilwyn!’
‘I’m trying. Just stand still.’
‘This might be a good time for me to vanish.’
‘Don’t you leave me!’
The nearest adult gave a long, rumbling hiss. The frightful sound staggered Gilwyn’s concentration. He struggled to reconnect with the beast, forcing all his mind against her.
No! he demanded. No harm. . no harm. .
The mother kreel relaxed, letting Gilwyn run his fingers over her mind. He told her everything he had told the youngsters, then told the other adults, too. Behind him, the young kreels gathered anxiously, loudly grunting for his attention. Ghost laughed in disbelief.
‘Look at you! You’re like a mother hen!’
Let us pass, Gilwyn begged the adults. Your children are free now.
Remarkably, the giants understood. One by one they moved aside, calling out to their young as if in farewell. Gilwyn had never seen the likes of it. The heartbreaking sound seemed almost human. Reaching back out to the youngsters, Gilwyn drew them closer, until they lined up behind him like soldiers. Emerald rushed up to stand in front of him, ready to lead the way.
Thank you, said Gilwyn to the adults. He was not really sure they knew what would happen to their offspring, yet they no longer blocked his way. They felt calm. Perhaps because he could speak to them, they trusted Gilwyn.
‘Ghost, get your drowa,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving.’
The albino wasted no time. He darted quickly past the adults to where his drowa waited. When he was safely away, Gilwyn stepped forward, letting Emerald lead him through the wall of reptiles. Behind him, the lines of young kreels followed excitedly, clicking and chattering as their parents watched them go.
29
Four days after leaving Dreel, Lorn and the Believers arrived at last in Ganjor. It was a welcome event to all of them, and the city’s magnificence sent Lorn’s senses soaring. In Norvor, it was well known that Ganjor was a peerless metropolis, a grand stew of cultures both north and south and a crossroads of commerce. Lorn had seen drawings of it in books. Still, he was ill-prepared for the greatness of the place, dotted with minarets and backed by a gleaming desert of white sand that made all the colours of Ganjor come alive like wet paint. Streets teeming with merchants and peasants and livestock criss-crossed like a game board, while high above the frenzy rose temple spires and great, ivory towers. Ancient city walls of ruddy clay stood as high as houses in places, or lay broken in crumbling mounds in other spots, baked raw by a sun that never seemed to darken. Horses and oxen and donkeys milled along the avenues, the burdened beasts of great trains of traders, their wagons filled with wares to sell in Ganjor’s bazaars. And with these creatures were other beasts, magnificent mythological-looking reptiles ridden by men in flowing robes. As Lorn’s desperate caravan entered the city, he and the others gaped at the monsters.
‘What in all the hells is that?’ asked Garthel. His rheumy eyes stared at the beast as he rode beside Bezarak in the lead wagon.
‘What?’ asked the young blind man at once. Quickly he swivelled his head to take in every strange sound. ‘What are you seeing?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lorn. As usual he was walking, guiding their donkey by its bridle. The reptile and its rider were a good distance away. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘It’s a lizard,’ said Eiriann. ‘They ride lizards here?’
Garthel shrugged. ‘I suppose. You see, daughter? There’s magic here, and we’re not even in Mount Believer yet.’
Lorn and the rest of them slackened their pace, too stunned by the city’s sights to pass them up quickly. Seeing the man on the lizard gave him some hope, for it was an unimaginably strange sight — the kind of thing one might indeed call magic. It seemed there were men of every race here, some dressed in familiar northern garb, others in the flowing robes of the desert kingdoms. And then there were the women, too easy to recognise in their strange, all-covering gowns, their faces barely visible as they walked the sandy thoroughfares. The sight of them made Eiriann wince, and from her place in the wagon she gave Lorn a disapproving scowl.
‘Is that what it’s like for women in Norvor?’ she asked.
Lorn hesitated. He knew nothing of Ganjor, or its customs toward women. ‘The ladies of Norvor aren’t slaves, no matter what you might have heard.’
‘But there’s a proper place for them in Norvor, is that not so?’ Eiriann looked around the streets in disgust. ‘I hope Mount Believer is better than this place.’
To Lorn, the status of the Ganjeese women mattered little. He hadn’t come to free them or argue over customs, and he already thought Ganjor a good bit better than Dreel, with its decaying stink and outrageous tolls. He and his companions had paid nothing at all to enter Ganjor, riding through one of the many holes in the city walls with barely a glance. Nor had they encountered any towns on the rest of the way south, or spent any of the coins Lorn had stolen from Duke Erlik. That meant they had money enough to buy shelter for the night — maybe more than one night — and the thought of soft beds had them all wearing smiles.