K Parker - Shadow

'I won't,' Poldarn replied. 'It'd be too much of a risk.'

'I think so too,' Tazencius said, 'I just wanted to be sure you did. All right; once the cart's moving, I suppose I'll let you get down. What's to stop you sending your friends after me? The moment I stop prodding you with this knife-'

Poldarn shook his head. 'I don't wish you any harm,' he said. 'I mean that. All I want is for you to tell me my name.'

Tazencius nodded. 'And I won't be able to do that if I'm dead, of course. All right, I don't see how I've got any choice; but remember, if you mess me about, I will kill you.'

Much to Poldarn's surprise and relief, it all worked out as he'd hoped. A man he'd never seen before (but who seemed to know him, as they all did) hitched up the team with a cheerful smile, and stopped to wave as the cart started to roll. Nobody else seemed interested.

'Can I get down now, please?' Poldarn said.

Tazencius frowned. He was managing the reins with one hand, holding the knife with the other. 'Not yet,' he replied. 'I want a bit more space between them and me before I give up my only advantage. Of course, if I was in your shoes, I'd be thinking about the fact that once this cart's out of sight of your friends there's nothing to stop me killing you and shoving your body off the cart and down into the ditch. In fact, bearing in mind my position here, it'd make much more sense for me to kill you than let you go. Have you considered that?'

'Yes,' Poldarn replied. 'But it's not as though I've got a lot of choice in the matter.'

'You haven't. Just think,' he went on, 'after a lifetime of making choices for other people-Do I like living in this city? Why should I live at all? Would I be better off dead?-now here you are, with no choices whatsoever, no responsibilities, no indecision, nothing. How do you feel?'

'Frightened,' Poldarn replied. 'And alone. I don't like either of them much.'

'You'd better get used to it,' Tazencius said, 'if you're really going to go and live among the savages. Imagine what it'll be like, the only human being, surrounded by two-legged wolves. Though I can't think of a better place for you, at that.'

The cart rolled on. One wheel was squeaking. Poldarn thought of Copis, but he was having difficulty remembering what she looked like. Besides, apparently he had a wife. Children, too? It would probably not be a good idea to ask.

It was a long time before the cart was out of sight of the battlefield; when the moment came, Tazencius looked at him and frowned. 'Here we are, then,' he said. 'Well, I suppose you could say you've done your good deed for the day.' Something about that remark seemed to amuse Tazencius; he grinned suddenly. 'I don't know if it counts, since you weren't acting of your own free will. But then, that'd go for most of us, most of the time. Still, I don't mind thanking you for saving my life, again. If I don't, nobody else will, that's for sure.'

'Don't worry about it,' Poldarn replied.

'Oh, I'm not worried,' Tazencius replied. 'You should be, of course. You do realise that by letting me live, helping me get away, you'll be directly responsible for thousands of deaths, tens of thousands, probably. A whole civil war. You see? Even when you do something good, it turns into evil. Your fault. Like everything.'

'Everything,' Poldarn repeated. 'Well, I wouldn't know about that.'

'Your good luck,' Tazencius said, 'at least for now. You know that? The day will come when you do find out, and I'd like to be there, to see your face. I'll be the one sitting on a big cedar-wood chair, my feet level with your head, while a beefy sergeant sharpens a sword on a stone. Till then, you can sweat it out.'

He squirmed sideways, raised his left foot and kicked hard against Poldarn's thigh, shooting him off the box. Poldarn landed on his bad arm and yelled, and then the cartwheel rolled over the ankle of his good leg. He heard the crack a fraction of a second before he felt the pain rush up through his body, flooding it, like a river in spate. From a long way off, he heard Tazencius whooping with delight-'Yes! Neat trick, huh?'-and then his eyes closed.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was movement. It felt familiar.

He opened his eyes, and saw Halder's face, looking down at him. 'Grandad?' he said.

'I'm here,' Halder said.

Are we on the ship?' Poldarn asked; then he added, 'The Long Dragon. Are we on the Long Dragon?'

Halder smiled, genuinely warm, like a good fire in the hearth. 'No, son,' he said, 'the Dragon was sawed up for floorboards fifteen years ago; this is the Raven. But you remembered the name.'

Poldarn nodded. 'I helped you build the Dragon,' he said. 'We sawed the timbers together; me up top, you down in the pit. I was fourteen. The big saw broke, and you had Ginlaugh weld it at the forge.'

Halder nodded. 'Ginlaugh passed on the summer before last, rest his soul,' he said. 'Now then, can you tell me who'd have the forge now?'

Poldarn thought for a moment, looking past his grandfather's face at the soft white clouds against a rich blue sky. Although the sun was bright, he was comfortable in the shade cast by the broad grey sail. He could hear voices, and although he couldn't quite make out what they were saying, he recognised the tone and pitch; familiar voices, his own people talking to pass the time. The smell of the sea made him want to sing. 'Asburn,' he said, the name slotting into place like a tenon into a well-shaped mortice. 'Asburn, his sister's boy. My age, or a few years younger. Is that right?'

The old man nodded. 'Welcome back,' he said. 'God, I wish I had a mirror handy, I'd like for you to see your face. You've got that look you always had when you were a kid. First time I've seen it since we found you again.'

Poldarn laughed. 'It's all right,' he said. 'I can remember. I can remember all sorts of things, right up to-' He frowned. 'Leaving home,' he said. 'On the Dragon, and you stayed home, after you fell out of the pear tree. And that's all.'

Halder shifted a little; he was sitting on a pile of empty sacks, with his back to the mast. 'That's all you need to remember,' he said, 'for where we're going. Anything that happened back there-' he made a vague gesture, presumably in the direction of land, 'all that, it doesn't matter any more, whatever it was. Where we're going, it's all different.'

There was something about the way he'd said that. 'Grandad,' Poldarn said (and for the first time he knew that his name really was Ciartan, and that he was going home), 'do I talk in my sleep?'

Halder looked away. 'Always did,' he replied. 'Bloody nuisance it was, too. Still, nobody's perfect.'

'Have I been talking just now?' He knew the answer from the way the old man didn't look at him. 'Have I been saying things about-?'

Halder shook his head. 'Nothing that made any sense,' he said. He was lying. 'Just a load of nonsense, not even in our language. Doesn't matter.'

Poldarn thought for a moment. 'If you do know,' he said, 'or if you ever find out, will you promise not to tell me? I have a feeling I'd be better off not knowing. Probably we'd all be better off.'

'I promise,' Halder said. High overhead, Poldarn could see two seagulls riding the warm air currents. 'We won't talk about it any more.'

'Thank you,' Poldarn said. 'Where's Raffen, by the way? And Scaptey?'

Halder looked past him again. 'Scaptey's dead,' he said. 'He didn't make it through that last battle. Raffen's here, it's his shift on the tiller.'

'I'm sorry,' Poldarn said. 'About Scaptey, I mean.'

Halder shrugged. 'It's been a bad business all round,' he said. 'Just on half of us aren't coming back. Never been anything like it in my time, or my father's, that I can remember. In fact, I'd say finding you again's about the only good part of it. And you know what? Far as I'm concerned, it's worth it. I thought I'd die alone, you see. Never could bear the idea of that.'