Marken bent forward and took hold of his arms, urgently, shaking him roughly. Sustained by this powerful grip, Farnor gradually regained control. He was determined to speak. ‘I don’t understand any of this,’ he managed to gasp, eventually. Once more, he was about to deny any belief in the sentient will of the trees, but he knew that he could not. He understood about the vague, distant voices, but when he had first heard them himself he had been far away and secure in all things, with a life to live and a future ahead, knowing nothing of the great tree-filled land that was supposed to lie beyond the mountains to the north. Now, here, he had heard voices as clear and distinct as Marken’s. And, as Marken had described, he had heard words filled with a meaning far beyond their immediate sounding.
And he had felt the power and determination of a terrible will. Whatever had happened when he was in the stables, he knew that he had been unable to resist the force that had snatched back that mysterious part of him which, uncontrolled and unbidden, had been hurtling towards the valley with who could say what intent.
He set the memory aside with a slight inner shiver. He did not want to think about it.
The soft rumble of voices overhead percolated down into the silence around the two men.
Denial denied him. Farnor tried to plead his case. ‘I’ve no… powers, Marken,’ he said, in some despera-tion. ‘Truly. I’m an ordinary person. A farmer. I know about sheep and cattle… potatoes, and… all sorts of things, but I’m no…’ A vision of Rannick came into his mind. He, too, had been an ordinary person, until something had woken within him the tainted legacy of his ancestors. And what was he now?
Farnor had no name for what Rannick had now become.
And too, as Gryss had said, ominously, the valley being the valley, self-contained and self-sufficient for generations, the blood of Rannick’s ancestors probably ran in the veins of everyone in the community. ‘I’ve no powers,’ he repeated, twisting his hands together. ‘At least none that I know of, or can use.’
Marken’s face was troubled. He spoke again. ‘I Heard what I Heard. At least, I think – there was such confusion, and…’ He stopped abruptly. ‘It’s gone,’ he said, softly, though with a hint of alarm. He looked around the room as if he expected something unusual to happen suddenly. ‘I was so preoccupied with everything that I hadn’t realized,’ he muttered, half to himself. Then, thoughtfully. ‘How long has it been…?’ He looked at Farnor and held up his hand for silence. Farnor found himself holding his breath. ‘There’s not a vestige of a sound,’ Marken whispered after a long moment. He nodded, realization in his eyes. ‘Not a vestige. It’s as if they’re deliberately remaining silent around you.’
When he spoke again it was in a low soft voice, as if fearful of disturbing someone, or something. ‘I think that I Heard a… little… about you that perhaps I wasn’t meant to,’ he said. ‘Murmurs in the background, as it were, though, in truth, whether it was by chance or design that they reached me, I’ve no idea. But it was as I said; for some reason you frighten them.’ His hand came to his forehead as if to focus his thoughts. ‘I Heard them say that you moved in the worlds that they moved in. Moved with great power and ease. A Hearer like none before, I Heard that, definitely. And more. Perhaps you were one that moved even in the worlds…’ He shook his head and frowned unhappily. ‘It’s so difficult to describe.’ He paused. ‘You moved in the worlds… between the worlds… the times between times. I’m sorry. My head’s full of the images I Heard, flickering and dancing… whole worlds… universes even… shimmering in and out of existence. Now here, now there, in the instant… nothing in between, yet everything in between… and you, always you, moving between. Above, beyond, and through it all. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s so…’ His voice tailed off and he slumped back in his chair. Marken’s patent distress did little to ease Farnor’s increasingly fraught mood. Mixing with his fear came anger, and disbelief. Not, this time, disbelief in the reality of the trees and their will, but simply disbelief in their power to restrain him. He refused to accept it. Had he not escaped a truly mon-strous and powerful creature to reach this place? And could these things move to seize him as that had moved? Of course not. The idea was ludicrous. The incident in the stables fluttered into his mind again but he crushed it ruthlessly. He had had no conscious part in whatever that had been so it was nothing to do with him. And he had to do something – anything.
He jumped to his feet impulsively. ‘I’ll go now,’ he said, his face tense and determined.
Marken looked at him, startled. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, standing up and reaching out to restrain him.
‘I’ll go now,’ Farnor repeated. ‘Right away. What can they do to stop me? They’re plants, for pity’s sake. Lumps of wood – stuck in the ground. How can they possibly prevent me from leaving?’ He stopped as a thought occurred to him. Then he looked at Marken and gave it voice as he shook the old man’s grip free. ‘Except have you tell Derwyn and the others to hold me here by force,’ he said slowly.
Marken turned away from him angrily, then his shoulders sagged and he sat down as if suddenly burdened by his age.
Again, the soft drone of voices from the room above, gently filled the room.
‘We come from different worlds, Farnor,’ Marken said. ‘And even though we’re both human beings, we have difficulty in understanding one another’s ways.’ He looked up at Farnor, who was still watching him, tense and suspicious. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how foolish – insulting – such words are. I don’t know what laws you have in your land, or how you enforce them, but such an act here would be unthinkable. We’re a free people. Save for the respect we freely give to those whose land this is, and the respect which we offer each other, we accept no constraint on this freedom. Even when a crime is proven we try to look to the causes and ways of rectifying them. And to reparation and conciliation.’
Farnor’s lip curled in disdain. He pointed towards the ceiling. ‘Derwyn himself told me that things were so confused that I might bring the hunt down on me if I fled unexpectedly. Then he wouldn’t answer me when I asked what would happen if I couldn’t make the Congress understand what had happened with EmRan. And you yourself just said that my life was hanging by a thread. How much conciliation is there in that kind of talk?’
Marken put his head in his hands. ‘I can’t deny that not all causes can be put to rights, Farnor,’ he said with a mixture of regret and impatience. ‘Nor all misdeeds repaired. Sadly there are some individuals in our world, as doubtless in yours, who are just plain wicked, and who do wicked things seemingly for the joy of it. They’re rare, thank the stars, very rare, but they appear from time to time and we have to deal with them. And, if need arises, they have to be sought out and brought back to face the consequences of their actions.’
‘And by seeking out, you mean hunting them?’ Far-nor said. ‘With dogs and bows and spears?’
Marken turned to him sharply. ‘As need arises, yes,’ he said, suddenly angry. ‘And you can take the condem-nation out of your voice until you’re a damn sight better acquainted with how we conduct ourselves here. For one thing, we don’t… ‘
Farnor was not listening. ‘And I would have been treated as such a person,’ he said heatedly, striking his chest with his fingertips. ‘Hunted down like an animal, just for trying to return to my own home?’
Marken stood up, his fists clenched and his mouth working angrily. Farnor stood defiantly in front of him. For a long moment, the two men stared at one another, across both years and cultures. Marken forced himself to patience. ‘Please try to understand,’ he said, sitting down again and motioning Farnor to do the same. ‘This has been an upheaval for everyone, not just for you and me. Derwyn and the others thought that I might have gone for good, as indeed, I might. It’s not unheard of, and the loss of its Hearer is a serious problem for any lodge. Then this strange-looking outsider that we’ve taken in draws a weapon against one of our own…’ He waved his hand as Farnor made to speak. ‘I heard your reasons,’ he said, hastily. ‘And so did everybody else.’ He became stern again, as if ashamed of some momentary weakness. ‘And that matter’s finished.’ He shouted angrily. ‘Finished! Your story was confirmed and accepted, and you’ll hear no more of it. That’s the way we are. And too, much of the confusion’s gone now that I’ve come back. And will you please stop hovering there and sit down.’