The Deepcombers

Chapter Twenty Eight

The building had a waist-high stick fence out front and the lantern's light illuminated two red roosters perched on opposite posts who glared at each other with equal intensity. The enclosure hosted a huge flock who clucked like an orchestra as they waited at the feed trough. These birds must lay those brown eggs he liked to eat for breakfast. Lon watched the poultry strut about their yard while they waited for their morning meal. They mingled underneath the two competing cocks, one at each end of the box.

Roosters can crow anytime of the day. Males will be more vocal if there's a rival nearby. Lon drew close and saw an age-old drama play out before his eyes. He witnessed the younger and brighter of the two competitors drop from his perch and begin a Cockerel Waltz. The handsome adolescent strutted in a half circle around the hens with its right wing extended down to signal that he was now the social apex of the aviary.

The older male sat above and stewed; his brilliance had faded, and he simmered on his fence post in silence. But then he reached his breaking point and flapped down to waltz in the other direction. It was just a matter of time before the two competitors collided.

Lon watched with real fascination as the angry fowls fought. They flapped their wings and flared-up in a sudden fountain of feathers and fluff. They battled with equal skill and the young lad saw them peck and scratch each other as they grappled in a death match. The sound of the cockfight brought forth the farm worker. She set down her basket and wasted no time fearlessly separating the two males, and to Lon's surprise she booted the younger bird out of the pen. She ejected the healthier more colourful cock and he watched it flutter over the stick fence to land unharmed in the lane. The defeated challenger collected itself and then clucked woefully as it strutted away in exile. Why did she eject the younger one? It probably didn't matter, and she'd just kicked the first bird she'd caught.

The lad still brooded on the scene when he reached the wider junction by the stream. The riverwalk here was paved with flagstones which glistened with dewy moisture. Now he turned right and found himself at the start of the terraced promenade that skirted the hillside. He walked the empty boulevard through the slowly awakening village. The eastern sky was an intense blue.

Another sixty paces and he could see many shadows and sensed a large crowd had gathered around the cookhouse. The gauze screens glowed yellow and shadows moved inside. This early hour could well be the busiest time for the camp-kitchen he thought, and he was hungry but he didn't feel social enough to enter the establishment.

Calmer now, he reflected on the events of the previous evening. Melcart had stalked him to be sure. He'd probably been on his trail since the lookout tower. He'd no doubt watched him climb to its roof. The snoop could have followed along behind and listened to his talk with Atar. He'd been close-by when Jarl and Tharus had met him and he'd followed them all into the sunflower grove. That's where he used his Varget trick. He'd somehow deployed the very same glyph seen in the stick-mosaic on their bedroom doors. Lon had seen it glow with golden fire and then float towards him in the air. He'd felt it enter his mind. He knew firsthand how it sapped thoughts and how it'd put himself and his companions to sleep. Nar Gor were the two words that Mel had spoken. He recalled from Zed's talk in the grotto that a Gor was consciousness. Nar must be 'not'. Not consciousness or maybe 'no thought', and presto the subject would fall asleep. What a powerful thing that could be!

Lon continued along the promenade until he had another insight. He remembered how his rival had performed the intonation three separate times, and how the ancient words had snapped and popped. Could those intriguing sounds be some indication of how he'd infused the shape, and how he'd released it each time? Lon he'd never spoken Varget aloud so he had absolutely no idea of how it actually happened. It was all so mysterious.