Ширли Мерфи - The Castle Оf Hape. Caves Оf Fire Аnd Ice. The Joining Оf Тhe Stone

“But why? That is fine pasture, Gravan.”

“Surely you know that Pelli was all but laid waste when the Hape ruled there, lady.” She stared at his mention of the Hape. “My grandparents left Pelli at that time, a young couple with small children, herding their goats, their livelihood, up into the hills of the Urobb.”

Gravan’s grandparents had been young, then, in the time of the Hape. In the time that she had left less than an hour ago. And his sense of darkness came from that time, from tales told and retold. Fear of the Hape and of the dark Seers lay like an ancient shadow on his mind.

“After the Hape was slaughtered by the Seers of Carriol, lady, there were no more dark Seers save the one who escaped that battle. My family could have returned to Pelli, but they had not the heart. They worked their way northward up into these pastures. They were raided many times by the Herebians while they lived along the Urobb. This land, these high pastures, seemed to hold some terror for the raiding Herebian tribes. They would not come here.”

So a dark Seer had escaped from the battle of the Castle of Hape. She had not known that, nor had Ram. None of them had known. He must have spun a strong mind-shielding indeed, to hide his escape as well. How had he managed it? And where had he gone? Which Seer had it been, among those dark, evil ones? “Tell me of that dark Seer, Gravin. There must be many tales of him.”

Gravan produced the wineskin and passed it to her. “Surely you know, lady, how NilokEm fogged the minds of the Carriolinian warriors so they did not know he escaped, how he and his kin after him rose to power.” He watched her drink, accepted the wineskin. “But of course there are no dark Seers of power any more. A handful of alley-bred street rabble, some with Seer’s blood among them, that is all. There has been no power since the twin grandsons of NilokEm were defeated by Macmen, and by a mysterious warrior. It is said their grandmother was a spell-cast woman come out of some enchantment, bred by NilokEm like a ewe on the hill, then never seen more. NilokEm died some years after his son’s birth, with a knife through his heart. Some say that he died by the hand of Ramad of the wolves.” Gravan stopped speaking abruptly and stared at her. “What is it, lady? What did I say to startle you so?”

“Nothing, Gravan. Nothing.”

“Folk tell that Ramad returned nine years after the battle of Hape, to kill NilokEm. Surely you have heard of the battle of the Castle of Hape. That is an old, old tale.”

The excitement made her stomach churn. “I—have heard it. Tell me what happened after Ram—Ramad killed NilokEm. You speak very well of these things.”

Gravan sipped reflectively. “The land was peaceful until the dark twins rose.” He settled back against the boulder. “The twins’ younger brother, Macmen, was a Seer of light, raised apart from them. It is told there was a streak of goodness come down from the grandmother. When Macmen came to power in Candour, the dark twins were enraged by his gentle leadership and brought Pellian armies to attack Zandour. Then there came a young man, out of some spellcast place, to fight by Macmen’s side.” Gravan looked across at her, caught by the wonder of the tale. “A young man with a great band of wolves by his side, lady. And the winged horses of Eresu come down out of the sky like a tide to help him. Just so did Ramad of the wolves, before him, fight at the castle of Hape, mounted on a winged horse, and with the magical wolves slaughtering the dark Seers. Wolves some say are only myth.” Gravan stared at Torc, his eyes kindling with the knowledge of what Torc must surely be. Torc looked back at him blankly, then rolled over on her back with utter lack of dignity, as if she had no idea what human speech was about. Skeelie reached idly to rough her fur, hiding her apprehension at Gravan’s interest. But Gravan was not put off. “She is one of them, lady. You—you fondle a great wolf as if she were a kitten. Only a Seer can command the great wolves, lady. You—you are of Seer’s blood.”

Skeelie looked back at him uneasily. But his look was only eager, filled with wonderful curiosity. What difference would it make for this little man to know the truth about her? He stared so openly, so eagerly awaiting her answer.

Be careful, sister. Take care.

But he knows. It’s no good lying now.

Then say nothing. Divert him! Torc thought sharply.

“Surely there are Seers among your tribe, Gravan. You are of Cherban blood, the very blood of Seers.”

Gravan seemed utterly in awe of her now. “Not so many Seers, lady. Not like the old times. The Seeing is not as strong as the old tales tell it once was.” He could not disguise his fascination with both Skeelie and Torc. He stared at Torc until the pale wolf thought cryptically, Oh well, the little man is harmless. He thinks 1 am beautiful, sister.

Skeelie scowled at Torc, laid a hand on the wolf’s broad head, gave Torc a push. You are insufferably vain. Then, “Who was that Seer, Gravan? The Seer who appeared so suddenly to fight by Macmen’s side?”

“What folk tell is impossible, lady. Folk believe that Seer was Ramad of the wolves, returned upon Ere sixty-six years after he defeated the Hape.”

Skeelie sat frozen. Ram was alive then. He moved through Time, moved through Ere’s history undaunted. Somewhere Ramad lived. Or, he had been alive at least in the time of Macmen. “How long has it been, Gravan, since the battle of Macmen?”

^”Why, twenty-three years, lady. But no one—no one living in Ere could help but know these things—to know all that I have told you. And you, a Seer—but forgive me, lady. I speak too freely, perhaps.”

Why had Ram come out of Time to battle NilokEm, and then again to battle the dark twins? It was Telien who had drawn him into the swirling fulcrum of Time, Telien he sought, not battles. Had the very existence of the dark Seers turned him from his search for Telien? How could that be? How could he be turned aside from the search for his love? Or had he been pulled out of Time without volition? Had the power of the runestones moved him to other needs here, beyond his commitment to Telien?

“And now,” Gravan said, almost to himself, “now perhaps evil rises anew. Perhaps people were foolish to put off the street rabble of Pelli as of little consequence. There are rumors, now, that the Seers among that rabble may have more power than men thought. That they may be the sons of the dark twins, street-bred from whores. That perhaps they are not only tricksters and petty thieves, that maybe they are to be feared. That perhaps they are the cause of new disagreements and small skirmishes between the several countries. Even the poor senses of the few Seers in Dunoon stir sometimes to waves of evil, to a breath of darkness off somewhere among the coastal countries.”

“But if this is so, if they should rise, won’t Carriol march against them?”

“It is all Carriol’s Seers can do to keep their own borders strong. They have no runestone now, lady. Have not had since the stone that Ramad brought out of Tala-charen was lost in the sea.”

Nearly ninety years, she thought, since the stone was lost. Yet to her it was but a handful of days. She felt empty inside, lost and afraid. Everyone she knew was dead, was dust now. Her brother, Jerthon, Tayba, all the Carriolinian council. All those she had loved. All but Ram. She bent her head to her knees, swept with desolation, with a loneliness too vast to deal with, sat so in silence for some time.

He said gently, seeing her misery but not understanding it, “Carriol will shelter any who come to her, lady—Seers in fear for their lives. But she will not march forth to right the wrongs across Ere, to depose the tyrants from Burgdeeth and other cities that enslave.”