Roger Taylor - Caddoran

It was some time before Thyrn became calm enough for Nordath to risk releasing him.

‘What happened?’ Hyrald asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Nordath replied.

Hyrald addressed the same question to Thyrn, who gazed up at him blankly. Though he appeared to be recovering, he was still pale and trembling. Hyrald saw that no matter what the answer to his question might be, Thyrn had just suffered a genuine fright. He used the insight to continue his interrogation. Whatever had happened to Thyrn and whatever condition he was in, this strange episode merely added to the many questions that had to be answered before they could continue their journey. Crouching down, he took Thyrn’s arm.

‘You gave us a fright. Particularly your uncle. Are you all right now?’

It took him some effort to affect a quiet concern, but it seemed to settle Thyrn further, though he replied only with a tentative nod of his head.

‘Has anything like this happened before?’ Hyrald pressed gently.

The nod became a shake then a nod again. Hyrald managed an encouraging smile. ‘Is that a yes or a no?’

Thyrn lifted a hand as if to deflect the inquiry, then leaning on Hyrald, he stood up unsteadily. He looked younger and frailer than his years, but his voice was unexpectedly steady when he spoke. ‘Something… similar has happened before but I can’t talk about it. It’s a Caddoran matter.’

Hyrald felt Rhavvan bridling and Adren shifted uncomfortably. He stepped close to Thyrn. His posture was confidential and protective, but his voice was quietly determined.

‘I don’t want to know anything about your Caddoran affairs, Thyrn, I’ve told you that. But there are things we need to know. We’ve travelled through some dangerous times these past days, and whatever we decide to do, there’ll be more to come for sure. It’s not been easy for any of us and you’ve handled yourself well, but if you’re suddenly going to pass out without warning you can see that might be a problem, can’t you?’

Thyrn turned away from him. ‘I have to go north,’ he said, gathering resolution from his questioner. ‘Away from here. Away from…’ He put his hands to his temples, though it was not a histrionic gesture. ‘I have to get away from Vashnar. There are lands up there where we can hide. A great city…’

Despite himself, Hyrald could not disguise his irritation. ‘Hiding, hiding. We can’t spend the rest of our lives hiding.’ He pointed to Rhavvan and Adren. ‘We’re Wardens. We, above all, know you can’t hide for ever. No one can. Sooner or later, fugitives are always caught. Either that or they die dismally somewhere, alone, forgotten. Not to mention the fact that we’ve all got lives to live. Homes, friends, families back in Arvenshelm.’

He stopped. None of them could afford the self-indulgence of fretting about what they had left behind. That would merely add to their burdens. He forced himself to renew his assault as calmly as he could.

‘As for this great city you keep talking about, it may just be a myth.’ He pulled a sheet of paper from one of his pockets, unfolded it and smoothed it out noisily. ‘We’re still in Arvenstaat, but even this place isn’t on the map. Look.’ He tapped the paper. ‘As for up there, there’s no saying what there is, what dangers we might be walking into. Great cities, magic castles, lands full of gentle people carving, tending horses. All tales. And there are just as many tales of blasted lands, full of mists and swamps and tribes of wild creatures – scarcely human. And vast forests that no one who enters ever comes out of.’ He managed to soften his manner. ‘A few years ago – you’re probably too young to remember – the gossip was all about a great war that was supposed to have been fought in the lands to the north. But that’s all it was – gossip. The fact is, nobody knows anything about what’s up there.’

Thyrn turned to his uncle but found no aid. For a moment Hyrald thought there was going to be a repeat of his mysterious collapse.

‘Tell us what’s frightening you,’ he said urgently. ‘Until you do that you’re going to be a fugitive whether you stay here or keep running.’

Thyrn put his hands to his temples again and his face stiffened. ‘I broke away from him. Pushed him out.’ The words came out with great force, as if suddenly overcoming an obstacle. He looked both surprised and pleased with himself.

‘Broke away, pushed who out, what do you mean?’

‘Vashnar – broke away from him.’

Hyrald looked at Nordath for clarification but none came. ‘When?’ he asked, in the absence of greater inspiration.

Thyrn was down to earth. ‘Now. Just now. When he tried to take me back. I pushed him out.’

Hyrald could only repeat, ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’

This time it was Thyrn who looked irritated. He spoke as to a pestering child. ‘When he came for me, just now. Tried to take me back. I got away from him.’ Then he smiled, surprised and pleased again. ‘Hit him, I think. Somehow.’

Noting the expressions on the faces of the three Wardens, Nordath intervened. ‘How did he try to take you back, Thyrn?’

Thyrn tapped his head. ‘In here. He’s in here.’ He was gaining confidence.

‘He’s nuts,’ Rhavvan hissed to Hyrald. ‘No wonder Vashnar wanted him brought in. Ye gods, we’ve been…’ Hyrald motioned him silent.

‘You’ll have to explain to us,’ he said. ‘We’re not Caddoran, we don’t understand.’

‘Neither do I,’ Thyrn said, abruptly angry. ‘Not any of this. I don’t even understand how I can do what I do. None of us do. We just do it.’

There was an uncomfortable pause. Hyrald risked the obvious. ‘But how can Vashnar be in your… head… here, now?’

‘I told you, I don’t know. But he was here. The Joining I had with him…’ Fear lit his face again.

‘Joining?’ Hyrald tried to make his query encouraging.

‘Explain to them,’ Nordath intervened. ‘Tell them what a Joining is – that’s no Caddoran secret, is it?’

Thyrn thought for a moment, eyeing his questioners, then let out a noisy breath. ‘It’s what happens when we’re remembering messages. We just become very quiet inside, so that we can feel what a client wants – become like them – become them, to some extent – hence, Joining. I can’t explain it any better than that.’ His tone was final.

Hyrald gave the accepting shrug of someone who is none the wiser but grateful and anxious to press on. ‘Tell us about “Joining” with Vashnar, then.’

Thyrn’s manner changed again. As he spoke, he began to gesticulate and his voice became more emphatic, as though he was now anxious to explain himself fully. ‘For some reason, what I do is much deeper – more intense – than for most other Caddoran. So I’m told anyway – I wouldn’t really know, would I? Anyway, it’s something like that, and that’s why I’m so good at my job. That’s why I got the job with Vashnar.’ He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

‘Caddoran to the Senior Warden is a much coveted post. Normally there’s fierce competition for it within the Congress,’ Nordath added by way of explanation.

Hyrald, however, was struggling with what Thyrn was saying. In his fairly limited dealings with Caddoran he had reached the commonly held conclusion that they were all ‘a bit odd’, but in so far as he had ever thought about how they worked he had imagined that they simply listened, remembered and repeated, like trained birds.

‘You say, you almost become your client when you’re taking their message?’

‘Yes.’

‘And when you’re passing the messages on?’

‘The same.’

Hyrald closed his eyes and thought for a moment, unconsciously imitating the Caddoran technique of feeling into the intention of the young man standing in front of him. When he opened them again, the sunlight, the shelter, the trees, everything, seemed a little brighter.