Roger Taylor - Whistler

Vredech gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘They are a worthwhile idea,’ he agreed. ‘But Privv…’ He hesitated. ‘Privv’s an undisciplined scoundrel who unfortunately has no small gift for words – and he seems to be getting worse by the day.’

‘We were coming to that conclusion ourselves,’ Darke said. ‘Though why anyone should wish to embellish the truth so, defies me. Can’t he be restrained in any way?’

‘It’s too complicated to explain,’ Vredech replied. ‘And of little value to you to know, I suspect. If you wish these things to be let loose on your own land, then learn from what you’ve seen here. Whatever lawmakers you have, have them oblige a writer of Sheets to confine himself to the truth.’

‘I’ll remember your advice,’ Darke said.

Vredech suddenly had the feeling that he had been tested in some way, and that these two strangers needed no advice on the running of a Sheet. Darke looked at him intently. ‘May I ask you something delicate?’ he said.

‘Of course,’ Vredech replied, as much out of curiosity as from priestly habit.

‘I think this man, Privv, has done your community great harm,’ Darke said. ‘More perhaps than you know. Please tell me to hold my peace if I offend you – just attribute it to a rash foreigner’s ignorance – but it seems to us that even greater harm is coming from the heart of your own religion.’

Vredech bridled slightly, but it was more a reflex than a true response.

‘This Brother Cassraw seems to be…’ Darke searched for the words he needed ‘… unusually naive in his preaching, and rather at odds with what, in my limited understanding, I take to be the main tenets of your religion as set out in your Santyth.’

Vredech looked at him closely. ‘You’ve studied the Santyth?’ he asked.

‘I’ve read it,’ Darke said. ‘Not studied it.’

‘What are you scholars of?’ Vredech asked.

Darke smiled broadly. ‘Everything, Brother Vredech. We put reins only on our conduct, not our minds. There are so many wonders to be seen, to be learned about, to stand in awe before, to celebrate.’ He reached down, plucked a tiny white flower and brought it close to his face. ‘Even though a lifetime of such journeying may not even tell us all there is to know about this single, solitary flower. For then, I suspect, we would know everything.’

‘How strange,’ Vredech said, genuinely moved by Darke’s manner. ‘I was thinking similar thoughts myself only a moment ago.’

Darke looked at him intently again, then seemed to reach a decision. ‘This is hardly a cheering day,’ he said, looking around. ‘Would I be right in assuming that you’re sitting here in the stillness and silence because of your concern about the conduct of your colleague?’

Briefly, Vredech was disposed to be indignant about this question, but it was too accurate. It hurt, however, and the pain came through in his answer. ‘Yes,’ he replied simply. ‘Though I don’t see what business it is of yours.’

Darke laid a hand on his arm. ‘I apologize, Brother Vredech,’ he said, ‘but I had a reason for asking the question.’

‘Where are you from?’ Vredech asked bluntly, reluctant to return to the topic of his own worries. ‘You speak our language well, but I can’t place your accent at all.’

‘We’re from the north,’ Darke said, adding as Vredech started to shake his head. ‘From beyond the mountains. Our home is far, far away.’

Where Vredech had felt parochial at unexpectedly meeting these foreigners, he now felt small and insignificant. Beyond the mountains was tantamount to being on the moon for most of the people of Gyronlandt, and he was no exception. He had heard that occasionally, travellers from the lands to the north would come through the mountains to some of the countries along the northern boundary of Gyronlandt, but to actually meet such people…

It tore open the tight cocoon of his own concerns and for a moment he felt disorientated as this brief insight into a larger world sank in.

‘Are you all right?’ he heard Darke asking.

‘Yes, yes,’ Vredech replied, a little embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. You surprised me.’ Then, as his cocoon sought to make itself whole again, he asked sharply, ‘Why are you here? There’s precious few people in Gyronlandt bother to come to Canol Madreth. Why should such as you, from so far away? There are richer, more exciting states in Gyronlandt to lure travellers.’

Darke did not reply at once, but his hand twitched nervously. As did Tirec’s.

Vredech’s emotions, still unsteady, swung to suspicion. ‘You said you knew of me. Have you sought me out on purpose?’ he demanded.

Darke smiled broadly and shook his head. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘We came to Troidmallos on purpose, but finding you here, now, was…’ He shrugged. ‘Fate, destiny, whatever you choose to call it. Personally I’m quite happy to settle for chance. I think, however, that we would have sought you out in due course.’

Vredech allowed his suspicions to show. ‘Why have you come to Troidmallos, then? And why would you want to see me?’ he asked. Darke’s smile faded and a slight spasm of pain passed over his face. He reached up and massaged his shoulder. This time it was Vredech who inquired, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes,’ Darke replied. ‘I hurt it falling off a horse once. It gets a little stiff sometimes.’ He gave his shoulder a final shake. ‘And I can’t answer your question, not directly. As much as anything, we’ve been drawn here.’

‘Drawn?’

Darke glanced at his companion, as if for advice.

‘Ask him, he’ll understand. He’s the one we need to speak to,’ Tirec said, answering the unspoken question. He gave an urgent nod of encouragement. ‘This place is frightening me to death. We need to know.’

Vredech frowned at this enigmatic remark. Darke fumbled with the copy of the Sheet, then placed it carefully in his pocket.

‘Brother Vredech,’ he said. ‘Bear with me, please. I’ll tell you what I can, but I need your help first.’ He did not wait for a reply. ‘We’ve learned many things since we came here, just by listening to gossip and asking the occasional question. Please tell me if I’m inaccurate in any particulars.’ Vredech’s frown deepened, but Darke continued. ‘Several months ago, a darkness came over this land. Your colleague, Cassraw, stormed up into this darkness in a great rage. When he returned, he believed he had been chosen by your deity, Ishryth, to bring about some great “purifying” of the land, for want of a better word. And since that time, your country has begun a seemingly unstoppable plunge into decay and disorder.’ He watched Vredech carefully. ‘We’ve heard, too, that he’s been given certain powers. Powers that he used the other night to control the rain. Is this a reasonable gathering of what’s happened?’

‘It is,’ Vredech said. ‘But…’

Darke brought his finger to his lips for silence, at once apologetic and authoritative. ‘We’ve heard also that you, and a Brother… Horld, I think was the name… went after Cassraw on that day, and we know that you’ve been gently striving to oppose what he’s been doing since his return.’ His gaze allowed Vredech no escape. ‘Although I’m a complete stranger to you, Brother Vredech, I’ll ask you to trust me,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask you to tell me what happened to you when you went up into that darkness after Cassraw, and what you think has happened to him.’

Vredech opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry. ‘Who are you?’ was all he could manage.

‘We are who we say we are,’ Darke replied. ‘Travellers and scholars. And I’ll tell you what I can in a moment, as I promised, but please, tell me what happened to you that day. And since.’