Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘May I look at his hand?’ Nertha asked into the ensuing silence.

Atelon glanced at Dacu, who nodded, then he looked at Pinnatte for his permission. The young man gave no sign but held out his hand to Nertha. She smiled at him and began removing the bandage. Her face lit with approval as she did so. ‘This is as neat as anything I can do,’ she said. ‘And I take some small pride in my bandaging. I gather you’ve had some training as a physician.’

‘I know a little about healing,’ Atelon replied non-committally.

Nertha’s face was studiously blank as she finally exposed the hand, though there was a tightness about the edges of her mouth. Pinnatte’s fingers were clawed and rigid and the back of his hand was badly misshapen.

‘What happened here?’ she asked Atelon quietly but very firmly. ‘This is more than a graze and an infection, this looks as if it’s been under a wagon wheel.’

‘A Sierwolf bit it,’ Atelon replied flatly.

‘What?’ Tirke exclaimed.

‘A Sierwolf.’

Dar-volci’s deep voice cut through the pending confusion. ‘You shouldn’t be too surprised, we’ve told you often enough that there are many of His creatures still lurking in the depths.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Dar-volci fought it. Killed it.’

It was Pinnatte. From his general manner, a more faltering voice might have been expected, but he spoke quite clearly, albeit with obvious difficulty. He had the hard-edged accent typical of the street citizens of Arash-Felloren.

Dar-volci chuckled darkly. ‘I did, too. Foul piece of work that it was.’ He spat into the fire which replied with a hissing cloud of steam and a few half-hearted sparks. ‘Mind you, it was both a privilege and a pleasure to cut chunks out of such an abomination.’

‘Where in the name of pity did a Sierwolf come from?’ Dacu demanded of Atelon, again visibly disturbed.

‘There are tunnels and caves under the city. As far as we can tell, the Kyrosdyn somehow captured it down there to fight in the animal pits. But it escaped and became linked with Pinnatte.’

‘Linked?’ Dacu queried.

‘I was it, it was me,’ Pinnatte said painfully. He offered no further explanation. Atelon made a sign to Dacu not to question the young man.

‘Something to do with what they’d done to him – or what he’d become.’

‘Yet it attacked him?’ Nertha said.

‘It bit him when he intervened to save my life,’ Atelon said. ‘I’ll tell you about that later, too.

The atmosphere around the fire was uneasy.

‘And can Pinnatte still use the Power and move between the worlds?’ Thyrn asked hesitantly.

Atelon shook his head. ‘No. His condition was as unstable as it was dangerous.’ He picked up his plate. ‘What happened to him was more improbable than me throwing this on to the rocks over there and having it land on its edge and stay perfectly balanced. Even if it happened it wouldn’t be for long, would it? If things had happened differently he’d probably be dead now – or possessed. Fortunately, they didn’t. As it is, he’s normal – whatever normal might mean – though I’m afraid he’s lost most of the use of his hand. And he’s tormented in ways I don’t seem to be able to help him with. Which is why I’m taking him to see Hawklan. There’s nothing for someone in his condition in Arash-Felloren.’

Tongue protruding slightly, Nertha was re-bandaging Pinnatte’s hand. ‘It’s certainly a nasty injury,’ she said. ‘But I’ve seen worse. I think, with a little exercise, we might be able to get some movement back into it. If you want to try.’ She smiled inquiringly at Pinnatte who nodded almost imperceptibly.

As she released the young man’s hand and sat back, Dar-volci sidled around the fire and flopped down against her. Without thinking, she began to stroke him. After a moment, he dropped his head into her lap and closed his eyes.

‘I see what you mean about your Accounting being a long one,’ Dacu said to Atelon. He looked round at the others. ‘So much seems to be happening. Wait until you hear what Vredech and Thyrn have to say.’ He rolled his shoulder as if it were troubling him. ‘So many questions. And all so…’ He let out a noisy breath, then slapped his knees briskly. ‘But everything in its time. That’s for then, this is now. What were the two of you doing down here, anyway? I presume you didn’t come looking for trouble.’

‘We certainly didn’t,’ Atelon replied ruefully. ‘And more than once I was nearly heading back for home, I can assure you. And at speed. But…’ He shrugged.

‘Another one with the gift,’ Vredech said to Dacu wryly, hoping to lighten the Goraidin’s mood. Atelon looked at him quizzically. ‘It was something we were talking about the other day,’ Vredech explained. ‘We all seem to have the gift of not standing idly by in the face of wickedness.’

Dacu accepted the gesture. ‘Vredech’s a priest. He exercises the gift by virtue of a higher moral authority. You and I just don’t know any better,’ he said provocatively.

Atelon smiled broadly. The exchange told him a great deal about this disparate party that had descended on him so unexpectedly. ‘Always looking for a fight, eh, warrior?’ he said. ‘Take no notice of him, Vredech. A few more people with that particular gift wouldn’t go amiss in Arash-Felloren. If ever there was an example of what we can descend to, that place is a good signpost.’

‘So we gathered,’ Dacu said. ‘So what were you doing there?’

Atelon looked rueful. ‘Now you mention it, I’d almost forgotten, it seems so trivial now – and a long time ago.’ He drew out the word ‘long’, then he stretched luxuriously, easier for having told at least part of his tale, despite its grim implications. ‘We came across crystals being sold at the Gretmearc – which was a surprise, to say the least. Andawyr was concerned. He asked us to see if we could find where they were coming from.’ He gave a guilty moue. ‘He’s due for a shock. They all are.’

Dacu’s brow furrowed. ‘What are these things – these crystals?’ he said, with a hint of irritation. ‘I’d never even heard of them before I came here. And what’s the Cadwanol’s interest in them?’

Atelon turned round to root in the pack he was leaning on. From it he produced a small flat box which he opened and held out for inspection. In it lay two rows of large many-faceted jewels. They were all different colours and they glittered seductively even in the firelight.

Nertha leaned forward with an enthusiastic ‘Ooo,’ but before she could touch any of them, Pinnatte reached out and closed the box. The movement was silent but determined. His face was pained.

‘Sorry,’ Atelon said to him. ‘That was thoughtless of me.’ He dropped the box back in his pack, leaving Nertha frowning at him, her ‘Ooo’ now a disconsolate ‘Oh.’

‘He can’t even stand to look at them now. Not long ago, like many another in Arash-Felloren, I suspect there’s little he wouldn’t have done to acquire those.’

‘No,’ Pinnatte said, his eyes fixed on Nertha. ‘Couldn’t sell. Too many others.’ He ran a finger across his throat.

Atelon nodded understandingly. ‘There’s apparently a hierarchy amongst the thieves in the city. The greater steal from the lesser.’ He tapped his pack. ‘And there’s more than enough in that box for someone to kill for – enough to give them financial security for a lifetime.’

‘Why are they so valuable?’ Dacu asked.

‘They’ve many uses,’ Atelon replied. ‘More than we ever thought, to be sure. As for their value, I don’t really understand how or why, but much of that seems to be arbitrarily maintained by some kind of arrangement between the Kyrosdyn, the crystal traders and the people who control the miners. One of Arash-Felloren’s few redeeming features is that it’s so big, so crowded, that no one faction or individual has ever controlled it and the people there set great store by that. So even the Kyrosdyn with their wealth and their skill in using the Power have to use cunning and stealth to achieve anything they want.’