Roger Taylor - Ibryen

The carriages rolled on. The escorting Guards marched on. The army trudged on.

And Jeyan learned the answer to her question; how far did the road go? It was a long way – and she soon stopped searching into the mist ahead. By the time the carriage came to a final stop, it was late afternoon and the overcast sky was bringing night early. Despite the comfort of the carriage, Jeyan found she was stiff and tired when she tried to move. As a consequence, she had no difficulty in maintaining the stern expression that she had chosen to affect when Helsarn opened the door. He was soaked.

‘This is our base camp, Lord Counsellor,’ he said. ‘Quarters have been prepared for you.’

As Jeyan stepped from the carriage she found herself under an awning supported by four Citadel servants. She took a deep breath. Unexpectedly, the damp coldness of the mountain air rushed into her like a bright morning wakening and she felt her every muscle and joint crying out to be stretched so that this would fill her entire body. She forced herself to stillness. She must show as few signs of her humanity as possible. It took her some effort and it showed.

‘Is anything wrong, Lord Counsellor?’ Helsarn asked, a small cascade of rainwater running from his helmet as he leaned forward.

Jeyan slowly glanced back along the line of carriages. Servants carrying awnings were also protecting the contents currently being disgorged, and the grey mountain light was spreading a demeaning hand over the cream of the Gevethen’s administrators and officials. It reduced them to creaking, arm-waving, bent-backed shadows, floundering pathetically now they were away from the musty twilight of their normal environment. Jeyan was glad that she had forced herself not to respond to her natural instinct after leaving her carriage. Helsarn surreptitiously followed her gaze. Seeing themselves so examined, the nearest officials stopped their fussing and bowed respectfully. Jeyan allowed her mouth a small twist of contempt as she turned away to look at the Gevethen’s great carriage. By contrast with the others, there was no activity about it at all save for the steam that was rising from the motionless horses.

‘Their Excellencies’ quarters could not be prepared until they arrived, Lord Counsellor,’ Helsarn said, anticipating her question.

The remark meant nothing to Jeyan. ‘Take me to mine,’ she said curtly.

As they moved off, the servants carrying the awning moved with them, like a poor imitation of the Gevethen’s mirror-bearers. The carriages had stopped on an area just to one side of the road along which the army was still passing. It was covered with crushed stones. They were loose underfoot and obviously had not long been laid for only a few small puddles had gathered. Around the area was an array of tents. They were black and rectangular and, to Jeyan, looked like so many rotten teeth set in pallid gums. Helsarn led Jeyan to the largest. As she stepped inside it was as though she had been transported back to the Citadel. Not because of the furnishings which, though similar to those in her room, were simpler and more sparse, but because of the gloomy lighting and the general atmosphere. How could that clinging heaviness have survived the journey and the rain-sodden erection? she thought. Perhaps it was the low sloping ceiling that heightened the sense of oppression, perhaps the black walls, perhaps the many mirrors. She did not dwell on the question. All she knew was that she did not want to stay here one moment longer than was necessary. She needed to be out in the fresh clean air.

‘Get me a cape and hood,’ she said as she took in the scene again.

Helsarn, who was standing at the entrance, dripping respectfully, looked uncertain.

Receiving no reply, Jeyan turned and repeated her request with an edge to her voice. ‘I wish to inspect the camp and the men,’ she added.

Helsarn started. ‘Lord Counsellor, this section is for their Excellencies’ staff,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘The main camp is further up the valley. It’s…’ He was about to say, ‘very disorganized’, but caught himself in time. ‘There’s a great deal of activity going on up there – men, equipment, animals, moving everywhere. And the weather’s made the ground very treacherous. We’ve had several serious accidents already…’

‘A cape and hood,’ Jeyan repeated coldly, cutting across his explanation. Helsarn hesitated, then saluted and strode off. Jeyan looked around her new quarters again, and she had to fight down an urge to lay about her, to smash this wretched remnant of Hagen’s personality, to shatter all these mirrors, to tear down the walls and let an honest light into the place.

Helsarn was not long and when he returned, Commander Gidlon was with him. Helsarn was carrying a cape, but both men looked decidedly uneasy. They had had a swift and uncomfortable conference. Even Helsarn’s unspoken remark that the camp proper was – very disorganized had been a euphemism. It was a little way short of complete chaos and it was only ruthless action by the army and Guards’ officers that was bringing any sense of order to it. It was true there had been several serious accidents. There had also been a far larger number of summary executions, for offences ranging from the questioning of orders to preaching mutiny and actually attacking officers. It was no brave-hearted soldiery that was going boldly to face the outlaw Count and free their land.

By far the greater part of it was a bedraggled and conscript army whose only choice was to move forward and take their chance against the Count’s followers, or risk the swords of their officers if they retreated.

For Gidlon and the other Commanders, the idea that the Lord Counsellor should see any of this and thence confide it to the Gevethen was unthinkable, not to mention the fact that they might not be able to guarantee her safety, so uncertain were conditions there.

‘Lord Counsellor,’ Gidlon said, saluting, then dropping to one knee. ‘I’ve brought the cape as you asked, but may I respectfully request that you remain here. As Commander Helsarn has doubtless told you, so much is being done so quickly to implement their Excellencies’ orders and conditions are so bad that the camp is very dangerous.’

For a moment Jeyan considered debating with him. As Helsarn had gone running for help, it was obvious that there was something they did not wish her to see. Instead however, she decided on silence and, walking past him, she took the cape from Helsarn.

Gidlon rose and tried again. ‘Lord Counsellor, please allow me a little time to select an appropriate escort of Guards for you…’ He stopped. As did Jeyan.

She was standing with the cape draped over one shoulder, staring at the activity now filling the area centred by the Gevethen’s carriage. Silent figures were rapidly erecting a further tent, though it was very different from the ones already built. Black canvases were already spanning from the high eaves of the Gevethen’s carriage to those of Jeyan’s tent and those of her immediate neighbours, and others were being run out even as Jeyan and the two Commanders watched. An unnatural nightfall was descending ahead of the premature one being brought by the weather. Jeyan felt as though she were watching the building of a great spider’s web. She felt also, the oppression within her tent slowly growing around her, threatening to enclose the entire area. And the smooth efficiency of the silent builders was deeply unnerving. It was as though they were part of a machine rather than the people they appeared to be.

Gidlon recovered his composure first. He did not know what was happening but, in his time, he had seen many strange things happen around the Gevethen and he had schooled himself to accept them without comment. ‘Lord Counsellor,’ he said, after a while, lowering his voice as though he were in a holy place. ‘Any danger aside, should their Excellencies wish to seek your advice it will be difficult for us to find you quickly if you’re wandering about the main camp.’ Receiving no immediate rebuff he risked embroidering his tale. ‘I will tell the men of your wish to visit them. They’ll find it heartening.’