Peter Dickinson - The Ropemaker

Tahl had a much harder time with Alnor. Though they looked so like, they were very different. Tahl was outgoing, interested in everything, always ready to talk to passersby. Alnor was withdrawn, touchy, stiff with strangers on first meeting, as if they were somehow a challenge to him. He spoke to them in much the same formal manner that he had used as an old man, but less naturally, as if this was a style he had not long ago chosen for himself and was still getting used to.

On their second morning they were walking in pairs, Meena and Alnor leading the way, and Tahl and Tilja not quite in earshot behind. Meena was chatting away, with Alnor laughing as he answered. Tahl, on the other hand, had been unusually silent so far. Now Tilja heard him sigh.

“What’s up?” she said.

He shook his head and sighed again.

“I want my grandfather back,” he muttered.

“Oh, no! This is wonderful! It’s thrilling!”

“For them. Have you heard him talking to me? As if I were some kind of henchman . I’m not anyone’s henchman.”

“Why can’t you just be friends? That’s how I feel about Meena—as if she were my elder sister. I’ve never had an elder sister before. I’ve always been eldest. I’m really enjoying it.”

“I’m not. And I wouldn’t if he were my elder brother. He’d be like this anyway. It’s all right in a grandfather—and anyway he needed me then. He doesn’t now. Besides, just look at the two of them! Next thing, they’ll be falling in love! They’ve started already!”

“That will be fun for them. Meena will really enjoy it.”

“They’re our grandparents, Til!”

Tilja laughed, but watching the pair ahead of them for a minute or two, she could tell he was right.

A day and a half north of Goloroth they came to Ramram, the small city lying along the other side of the river, with its immense fortress built long ago to defend the Empire against raiders from the south who had never come. The famous fair on the bridge was in full swing.

“Let’s just have a look,” said Meena.

“There’s nothing we need,” said Alnor.

“Who said anything about need?” said Meena. “When d’you think I’m going to get another chance to come to Ramram? With money to spend? Right, Tilja?”

(Alnor had put himself in charge of Faheel’s purse, and taken a gold coin out of it each day since they had landed. When Tilja touched one of these it remained a gold coin, so they knew that the magic was not in it, but in the purse.)

Ramram, thought Tilja. Calico . . .

“I’ll never hear the last of it if I don’t bring something home for Anja,” she said.

Meena frowned, puzzled for a moment, until she went into her other memory-room and found the name.

“Nor you won’t,” she said. “Come on, Alnor. I’ll buy you a belt buckle or something.”

“We’ll be quicker if we go two and two,” said Alnor when they stood at the entrance to the bridge. He squinted for a moment at the sun. “We’ll meet back here when the shadow of that column reaches the drinking trough. Don’t lose sight of each other.”

Tilja smelled the familiar reek of sun-dried dung before she saw the horse fair, lying along the near bank of the river, invisible from the road, but she didn’t drag Tahl off at once to the horse lines. What she’d said about Anja was true, and this was the best chance she’d get to find something for her. The bridge was as busy and crowded as the streets of Talagh, but felt very different. Though hugely larger and richer than the stalls at a Gathering in the Valley, it had the same kind of feel, friendly and businesslike. Tahl bought himself a hunting knife and Tilja found a mother-of-pearl hair comb for Anja and a plainer, tortoiseshell one for Ma. Satisfied, she started back.

“We don’t have to go yet,” said Tahl. “There’s lots more . . .”

“I want to go and look for Calico. The man said he was coming here.”

“Why on earth? You could get a much better—”

“Calico belongs at Woodbourne. Like your dog you told me about at Northbeck. She was useless, but you kept her there till she died.”

“Oh, all right.”

“Course I’ve still got her,” said the horse dealer. “I’m a man of my word, I am. Besides, d’you think anyone would have bought her off me? You sure it’s her you want? I’ve a sweet little pony, now, five years if he’s a day. Purebred Harst Mountain, and they’re tough as they come, but good tempered with it. Had a kick from one of the others a couple of days back, so he’s going a bit lame in his off fore—”

“Spavined, you mean,” said Tahl, unable to resist a haggle.

“Shut up,” said Tilja. “Look, I’m sure he’s lovely, but I just want Calico back. I’ll pay you the full seven days, if you like.”

“Well, if you’re sure, though I reckoned I’d be giving her away at the end. She’s along this way. . . . And while you’re here, young lady, there’s something I may as well ask you. You were trying to get into Goloroth that night, right? I’d’ve said you couldn’t’ve made it, but seeing you’re here . . . well, did you?”

Tilja nodded. The man lowered his voice.

“There was something happened inside the city that night, big enough to make ’em close the gates all next day. Some of the racket you could’ve heard back here in Ramram. And now there’s all this loose magic blowing around. Devil of a time I had of it, bringing my beasts up north, though every one of them’s got an amulet in its mane. And now you’ve got into the city and out again. . . . So what’s up, supposing you know?”

Tilja hesitated. To tell anyone anything about what they’d done might be dangerous. To refuse to tell might be just as bad. She glanced at Tahl.

“Yes,” he said easily. “We sneaked in with the slave children. We found our grandparents in one of the big barns. Somebody’d brought something magical in—”

“But it’s warded to hell, the city!”

“Yes, I know. But they managed it somehow. And a couple of magicians came to get it for themselves and fought over it and there was an explosion and lots of screaming and running about, so we managed to get out. That’s all I know. I’ve no idea what it was all about. You haven’t heard anything else, have you? Nothing from Talagh, for instance? I’d have thought they’d send somebody down to sort things out.”

“If they did, it’s not the sort of stuff folk like us get to hear about. Nor anything else. Better off that way, like as not.”

He shrugged and spread his hands, accepting the appalling whims of the Empire.

“What about Calico?” said Tilja.

“Well, young lady, seeing you’re set on it, we’ll call it six days and leave it at that. Here she is, then. Looks pleased to see you, too.”

“That’ll make a change,” said Tilja, but for a moment it seemed almost true. As the dealer led her out of the line Calico sidled up to Tilja like any normal horse greeting its owner, but as soon as Tilja reached to pat her she flattened her ears and turned away. Forgiveness was no part of her scheme of things.

Meena laughed when she saw Calico, but Alnor was furious. He couldn’t complain of the waste of money, when a single gold coin from Faheel’s purse would have bought them at least two decent horses. And Calico could carry their packs, and Tilja would deal with her moods. But in his own mind he was in command, and buying Calico back was something he hadn’t had a say in. So both he and Calico sulked all afternoon.

Next morning Tilja was walking with Tahl when he said, “This fellow who’s supposed to find us somewhere, and make it snow properly in the Valley again and so on—did Faheel say anything else to you about that?”