Lawrence Watt-Evans - Relics of War

“Then we are decided,” Tesk said, “and I am pleased. I did not want to leave.”

“May I try that black stick?” Ishta asked, pointing at the rod.

Tesk smiled. “No,” he said. “It would not work for you. But I have other things I can show you.”

Garander hesitated, then admitted, “I’d like to see them, too.”

“Of course,” Tesk said. He reached around and tucked the black rod back into place. “Let us find somewhere more private, away from the smoke of the stump, and I will show you.”

Together, the three of them retreated deeper into the woods.

Just a sixnight after Ishta and Garander visited Tesk, the first real snowfall arrived. It began in the night, and Garander woke up to a dimly-lit world covered in white, with big fat flakes swirling outside the window.

At breakfast Grondar said, “The clouds are thinning. It should stop by noon, I’d say.”

Garander nodded, and stuffed another chunk of bread in his mouth.

“You’ll need to feed the livestock, of course, but anything else can wait until the snow stops.”

“Yes, Father.”

“May I play outside?” Ishta asked.

Their parents exchanged glances; Grondar turned up an empty palm. “Why not?” he said. “But stay close, in case the storm gets worse.”

“You just said it was stopping!”

“Am I a wizard, then, to foresee the future? It looks to me as if it’s stopping, but I could be wrong, so don’t go far.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Shella, we can work on the mending,” their mother said.

The elder daughter looked up from her plate. “Yes, Mother.”

“Don’t you want to play in the snow?” Garander asked her, teasing.

Shella shuddered. “I have no desire to be cold and wet, thank you,” she replied.

Accordingly, once the table was cleared Ishta and Garander bundled up in their boots and winter coats, while Shella and their mother pulled out the mending bag and settled by the hearth. Garander was still filling a bucket with table scraps for the hogs when Ishta dashed out into the snow. He glanced after her, then continued with the task at hand.

It occurred to him that she might plan to pay Tesk a visit, to see what he thought of the snow; he hoped not. Still, it should be safe enough, since their parents were staying inside. Garander attended to his own business-seeing that the hogs and chickens were fed.

He was done with his rounds and was putting the unused chicken feed back in the bin before closing up the barn when he heard the house door slam. He thought at first it must be Ishta going in, which was unexpected-he had expected her to stay out for hours, enjoying the weather. In fact, he was mildly surprised he had not yet been hit by a snowball. He looked up.

A figure was standing at the door, and it was much too big to be Ishta. Startled, Garander peered through the snow, and realized that his father, Grondar, had just emerged, and was looking around the yard. He seemed to spot whatever he was after, and began trudging northward, past the barn.

Puzzled, Garander was about to call out when he heard Grondar shout, “Ishta!”

Garander turned and looked, noticing that the snow was coming down more thickly now, but he did not see his sister anywhere. “What’s going on?” he called.

Grondar spotted him. “Oh, your mother wants Ishta for a fitting,” he called. “She’s cutting one of Shella’s old tunics down for Ishta, and wants to get the size right.”

“Oh,” Garander answered.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Garander replied. “Do you want me to look?”

His father waved him off. “No, I’ll do it. I’ve found her tracks here. You finish up your chores and go on in.”

Garander hesitated. He was afraid Ishta’s tracks would lead into the woods, but he could not think of any reason he could use to insist on being the one to follow her.

And then it was too late; his father was marching northward through the snow, his eyes fixed on Ishta’s trail.

Garander latched the barn door, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t know that Ishta had gone to see Tesk, but it seemed likely. Would her tracks still be clear enough to follow in the woods, where the ground was less even and the branches overhead caught some of the snow?

Yes, he decided, they would. And their father might not realize what Tesk was until it was too late; if he thought the shatra was an ordinary man bent on debauching his daughter, he might do something that would force Tesk to defend himself.

The possibility that Grondar would catch Tesk off-guard and kill or seriously injure him occurred to Garander, but he quickly dismissed it. Tesk was shatra , and Garander had seen a little of what he could do. It was their father, not Ishta’s playmate, who was in danger.

Garander glanced at the house, but decided not to take the time to alert his mother or his other sister. What could he say that would be any use? Instead he turned and set out after his father.

Grondar’s footsteps were plain in the fresh snow, and for that matter, Ishta’s were still visible as small oval depressions, even though she had been gone almost an hour and the snow was still falling steadily. Garander hurried.

He could see his father perhaps a hundred feet ahead, beyond the barn, looping around the woodshed; that was the route Ishta used to slip into the woods unseen from the house. Muttering curses under his breath, Garander followed as quickly as he could. He considered shouting, asking Grondar to come back, but what could he say to convince him?

“Ishta!” Grondar called, and Garander heard the anger in his voice. He guessed that his father had seen Ishta’s tracks going into the forest, where she was forbidden to venture. Garander struggled to pick up his pace.

The snow was getting heavier; Grondar’s earlier prediction that it would end by noon seemed less and less likely every minute. Garander could scarcely see his father through the swirling white. The footsteps were still clear, though. Garander followed as swiftly as he could, north around the barn, past the woodshed, across the ditch, around the oak, and into the forest.

It was late morning, but the heavy clouds blocked the sun and the snow obscured everything; Garander was not sure just where he was going. The snow clinging to every branch and sticking in patches to the trunks distorted the trees and made it hard to recognize landmarks.

“Father!” he called, though he was unsure what he would say if Grondar called back. He could his father’s coat, the shoulders white with snow, moving through the woods ahead.

And beyond, deeper in the forest, just barely visible through the snow, he saw two figures that he thought must be Ishta and Tesk huddled beneath an improvised shelter, a broad length of white fabric stretched between two sturdy branches somewhat above head level. Garander could not hear them-the snow muffled all sounds-but they appeared to be chatting amiably, untroubled by Grondar’s approach.

Tesk must have detected his approach, though; he was shatra , with supernatural senses.

Even as Garander thought that, he saw Tesk look up, suddenly alert. Then he moved, with that strange, smooth speed, leaping out from under his shelter to grab a tree limb, then swinging himself upward. He seemed to not so much jump as flow from branch to branch and tree to tree, moving higher and farther away with every transfer. It should have looked absurd, a man jumping around in the trees, but it didn’t; it looked graceful and terrifying.

Then he was gone, lost amid the snow-covered trees, and Grondar was bellowing, “Ishta! Who was that with you?”