Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘A little thought, a little experience, a little ingenuity,’ Yengar said, looking around the spacious interior as if he had not seen it for a long time. ‘Actually, more a lot than a little, now I think about it,’ he added. ‘But!’ He clapped his hands. ‘What are you doing here?’ Before Farnor could reply, Yengar leaned forward confidentially. ‘Everything is all right at home, is it?’

‘Everything’s fine,’ Farnor confirmed. ‘Different, but fine. If it’s still open I’ve come to accept your offer to take me to wherever it is… whoever it is… who can help me find out what’s happened to me.’

Yengar smiled understandingly. ‘A wise decision, I suspect, and I’m more than glad to see you. As much for our sakes as yours. I was fairly certain that, once we’d given our accounting of what happened here, we’d probably have been asked to escort someone back to talk with you. Perhaps even Andawyr himself. And, with no disrespect to your friends and kin, I’d like to spend a little time in my own home for a while.’

‘Andawyr?’ Farnor asked.

‘He’s the Leader of the Cadwanol – the people most likely to know about the kind of thing that happened to you. You’d like him.’ Yengar chuckled. ‘He’s as far away from being like the head of a great Teaching Order as you could imagine. But very clever – and very wise.’

Their conversation was underlain by the steady drumming of the rain on the roof of the canopy and the splashing of its irregular dripping from the edges. Marna’s raised voice drifted across to them. She and Olvric were bent over a pile of rocks from which a faint wisp of smoke was rising. Marna was protesting about something.

Farnor felt the need to apologize. ‘She’s quite headstrong, Marna,’ he said. ‘Not the easiest of people to get along with sometimes.’

Yengar indicated the other large tent. ‘We’re used to headstrong women, he said, adding loudly, ‘and idle ones.’

A thought occurred to Farnor. ‘I’d no idea how long we were going to be travelling so I brought lots of supplies. Then the Valderen gave me lots more. It’s their way once they know you; they’re very generous.’

‘So we gathered,’ Yengar said, wide-eyed. ‘We weren’t certain whether refusing them would be an insult so we just smiled, said “Thank you” and loaded the poor pack horses some more. I think we’ll have enough food to see us into the winter, let alone home.’

‘Well, you have mine now, as well.’

They were interrupted by Yrain and Jenna emerging from the other tent. As they did so they threw up the canopy as Yengar had done but even more quickly.

‘Marna, air your tent,’ Jenna shouted as they moved across to join the two men. There was no reply, but Farnor noticed Marna’s shoulder’s hunch. He was standing up to offer his seat to one of the women when they seized and embraced him vigorously.

‘Good to see you, young man,’ Yrain said, releasing him, then dropping down and sitting cross-legged beside him. ‘I’m glad you’ve decided to come with us.’

Farnor looked at Yengar in surprise.

‘They were listening,’ the Goraidin explained dismissively. ‘You probably woke them when you arrived. They’ll have been cowering there, fearful of an attack by some mountain demon.’

‘It’s your turn to cook the breakfast, isn’t it?’ Jenna said to him before Yrain could voice the acid reply that was making its way from her eyes to her mouth.

Yengar patted Farnor on the shoulder, then left them and went over to the horses.

‘Don’t make anything for me,’ Farnor shouted after him. ‘I’ve eaten.’

Yrain looked up at the sky. ‘Early riser,’ she said with some admiration.

‘The animals don’t lie in,’ he said. She smiled and squeezed his arm affectionately.

As the others ate, Farnor told them about the few things that had happened in the village since they had left and then explained why he had decided to follow them. His reasons surprised no one and they all reiterated Yengar’s welcome and his opinion that they would probably have had to come back to see him anyway.

‘Even so,’ Yengar said as the conversation flagged momentarily. ‘A hard decision for you. Accepting that something’s gone for ever is never easy.’

‘I’m not sure that it has,’ Farnor said quietly. ‘At least, not all of it. I think what my mother and father gave me, and Gryss, and all my friends, my whole life in the valley – even Rannick, in the end – will stay with me for ever.’

The others exchanged glances and Jenna turned away.

‘I’d say I was at least ten years older than you before I learned that,’ Yengar said. ‘Well done.’

Then the camp became brisk. The two large tents were dismantled and stowed on the pack horses with the same alacrity with which Yengar had erected the canopy. Marna’s took a little longer and involved more robust language. The fire was dowsed, latrines sealed, and the whole site carefully examined until they were satisfied that it was as they had found it.

Farnor helped where he could. ‘Marken said your passing leaves no sign,’ he told them. ‘It impressed him.’

He watched Olvric turning over a stone before he finally mounted.

‘Why such care?’ he asked as they set off.

‘Habit now,’ Olvric replied. ‘Training once. And the nature of the work we do.’

‘Work? I thought you were soldiers.’

This provoked a mixture of laughter and reproach.

‘There’s a little more to soldiering than just charging in and killing people – or getting killed,’ Yengar said. ‘We go deep into enemy territory to find out what they’re doing – where their army is, how big, how many infantry and what kind, how many cavalry and what kind, how well equipped, disciplined, supplied they are, and so on. Then we take the information back to our own people so that they can decide what should be done for the best. Occasionally we have to go in and do damage.’ Farnor looked at him in anticipation of a tale but Yengar became unexpectedly serious. ‘Our profession is the study of ordered violence, Farnor. In so far as violence can be ordered. If we do our work well, then fewer people die than might have been the case. If we do it really well then perhaps none die, perhaps the battle never happens.’ His manner lightened again. ‘And part of our work – a part we relish, I might add – is staying alive. That’s why we do our best to leave no sign.’

‘There’s no enemy round here,’ Farnor protested.

‘You know these mountains, this land, do you?’

‘Well, no, but…’

‘Well, no, but, indeed. Still, you’re probably right, I doubt there’s any enemy around here. But our work can be dangerous and frightening. Believe me, when someone’s hunting you, he’ll spot a broken twig, an upturned rock, scuffed grass, and be on you like a summer storm. As Olvric just said, we rely first on good training and then on good habits – habits we can’t risk letting slip just because there’s no immediate threat. Hard experience has taught us that – both ours and other people’s.’

Farnor acknowledged the explanation.

‘Besides,’ Yengar went on. ‘Leaving the place a mess is disrespectful to the other creatures that live here, isn’t it? So if the idea of fighting offends you, you can think of our tidiness as simply good manners.’

‘It doesn’t offend me. It frightens me – frightens me a lot.’ He paused. ‘And it puzzles me. I understand it and I don’t understand it. When I reached the Most Ancient I was full of hatred for Rannick. I had a vision of him dead – killed by me – like I’d slaughter a pig – and I wanted their knowledge so that I could come back and overwhelm him and make it so. But when I came away, I was different. The hatred was still there, driving me on, but changed somehow. I knew then I had to try to stop him doing what he was doing. I didn’t seem to have a choice. I couldn’t see any life beyond it.’ He laughed weakly. ‘I remember having some vague idea about bringing him before the law, to be tried. But I knew in reality I’d have to fight him – and that creature – and that I might die. I convinced myself it wasn’t just for me any more, that it was for everyone else as well. It was to stop him hurting people like he’d hurt me. But it was still the same hatred. And still as much a desire for vengeance as it was for justice.’