After he'd slept for eight hours on such a comfortable mattress, Lon found it strange that he should wake-up with aches and pains in the morning. Maybe it was rigors from the road as his mom labeled the stiffness his stepfather and stepbrothers experienced after they'd returned from timber contracts. They moved slow for a day or two before they got used to soft beds again.
Lon dressed and stepped into the hall. The passage was empty and all other doors were closed. He stood and listened but he could hear no movement or detect anyone else except the sentry at the stairs. He walked past him and wondered what he was thinking. He felt very small as he traipsed across the festival hall which looked even bigger during the day because of the way the morning light filtered through the holes in the front wall.
Outside Winterhouse, all the Calbians he met bowed and pointed and seemed excited to spot him. Children giggled as they ran from his presence and new mothers curtsied as he passed. Lon was enormously pleased to be so esteemed and he politely returned all kind gestures with warm smiles.
In the cookhouse, the young lad gave silent thanks to Amon and Kluth that his day could begin with such a hearty breakfast of eggs, salt pork and buttered potatoes. Was this to be his routine now? Just like on the Annabelle, and in the labour camps in Remolin and in all the logging depots before that, shift work was always the same. After a few days everything became familiar and by the third or fourth day you realized the same activities would be your routine for months or years to come. Suddenly that was a nice thought. Atarskal would be a wonderful place to grow bored. He didn't think it was possible.
Outside again, the morning sun warmed his neck and shoulders as he sauntered uphill. He spotted Zed's wagon and followed the trail higher to the flagstone pad at the base of the linden. He stood there and gazed east. There was no black smoke to be seen. What was Clyde even talking about? After work today he'd climb to that lookout station and try to find whatever was hidden up there and once aloft he'd also take a long gander to the east.
*
Lon had already completed several infusions all by himself before his counterparts arrived. His work product glowed white on the table and waited to be collected by Zed. The mystic also moved slower this morning and he offered only the barest greetings and slenderest of smiles when the other young masters arrived.
"Good morning," Saeya said.
The day was scorching hot and Zed asked his teamsters to bring a sunshade for the medicine. With the water pool gurgling in the background the alcove was extra humid and soon everyone had sweaty skin. Lon unbuttoned his shirt and considered removing his trousers. Melcart almost spilled a vial when the wet glass slipped through his fingers. He caught it in time and shrugged.
"I'm melting." Mel said.
"I'm reminded of Giglo who chose the hottest day of the year to climb the Banta and slay the Icegor." Zed made conversation as he shifted the boxes under the sun blocker.
"Did that really happen?" Lon asked.
"Oh here we go," Val said.
"Giglo bested the Icegor, yes." Zed replied.
"Which was otherwise doing no harm to anyone," Saeya said.
"What's a gor?" Lon asked and that quieted everyone.
Melcart looked down at his work, and Val retreated.
"A consciousness," Saeya explained. "A being, but not always." She looked at Zed for affirmation.
The green robed feigor smiled yes. "He chose the hottest day because the ice beast had less strength"
"How did he best it?" Valari asked.
"Hot balls of fire," Melcart answered before Zed could reply.
"It doesn't say that." Saeya scolded, and then looked to Zed for the definitive version.
"It certainly does." Melcart gazed up into empty space to access his memory of the poem, "With Daoda's Gift high overhead; Giglo stalked the beast when the snow most bled. Up drowned slopes the hero did sneak, from the base of the Banta to the crack of its peak. The Icegor sheltered away from the sun and Giglo cornered him, nowhere to run. His days of killing and evil most dire, ended with steam and hot balls of fire. I repeat. Hot. Balls. Of. Fire."
"Fireballs?" Lon gasped. "The sheets also had stories..."
"Yeah, too bad they didn't think to print the glyph huh?" Melcart said in a manner which suggested he blamed the long vanished deepcombers for his own ignorance today.
Zed cleared his throat. "But as I have explained to the young master countless times, such insights on paper won't help you Melcart. It wouldn't be your construct. Anything you see represented in print would be the shapes imagined by the printer."
"A well held theory Zed," Val interjected. "But if I see ever the rune, I could will-it to work."
"Then what are you waiting for?" the medico turned and hotly challenged his female acolyte. "Take two Toll Stones and climb to the shrine. They work the elements up there every day just as we infuse medicine down here."
"Really?" Melcart had a hungry look on his face.
"For that you have a teacher," Zed pointed. "Ephram awaits."
Silent glances all around the table. Nobody spoke.
So there was a teacher up in the shrine and his name was Ephram. Clyde had said the higher knowledge was up there, and he'd also said that Horne could not ascend. It must not be easy to get there or to survive there for on the very first night in the construction site Melcart had said that everyone who went up there was never seen again.
The young lad turned and stared up at the mystical structure barely visible atop of the waterfall; its green face and two gold columns looked majestic in the morning light. It didn't look that far away. He would go there, and he would come down again.
"What is an Ice Gor?" Lon asked, "I mean, where are they now?"
"That's a good question," Zed said. "I've wondered that myself. I have theories."
"Here it comes," Valari picked up a fresh flask and closed her eyes to relax and listen.
"Kluth made the world and the four gors. Geigorin for the air, Somgorin for the sea, Tokgorin for the rock, and Feigorin. What are we?" He waited for the answer.
"Fire," Melcart, Valari and Saeya answered in near unison.
Zed dripped wax on the table and drew each shape. He sketched the Varget symbols for each life form. Lon saw the same diamond-shaped symbol, their gor or consciousness, placed on top of four different elemental bodies. Most importantly, he saw that a gor was the diamond on his bedroom door.
"That's right." Zed smiled and continued, "We feigorin are the fire-thinkers, we see white flames covering the source-below when we close our eyes and that's because we don't need the groundsmilk to live. We burn it instead."
"The other beings don't?" Lon asked, then clarified, "I mean, they do need smilk to live?"
"They certainly do." Zed confirmed. "Everyone but feigorin. And we can thank Daoda for that."
"Even the Icegor?" Saeya asked.
"That creature was an unfortunate cross." Zed explained, "It appeared on the Banta after Atmos stood on the mountain's shoulders to make the Tall Wall and the Great Door." He paused, "I think the poor fellow was caught somehow, and it became de-ranged. Instead of taking-up the groundsmilk like Tokgorin, which is what it was, I'm sure, it got mixed up and became half Somgor, which is of-water you see, and that would be a tragedy if you were originally of-rock."
"And that's how it became an Ice Gor." The young lad smiled. That made sense. The creature was sick and needed cold temperatures to keep its shape. This syrupy old feigor was likely making his fortune here, but Lon had to admit he was the wisest sage he'd ever met. He could make sense of these old stories and put them in context. He knew Varget and the purpose of things. Lon memorized the wax figures he'd drawn on the table.
"Then the poor creature should be regarded as a victim of the First Age, and not its greatest villain." Saeya stated.
"The Icegor was not its greatest villain." Melcart objected, "It took sheep and cows and waterfowls." He quoted. "Giglo wasn't even that strong a hero. Not really." He snorted, "There's a Varget speaker in the port that can make fireballs as big as your head."
"There is?" Lon gasped. He immediately wondered if that gentlefeigor had met Minister Horne and the Crols yet.
"Patraquin is the most powerful smilkdriver in Ligne." Mel added for Lon's benefit. "He leads the Vargus."
"He's not the most powerful... " Valari had more to say, but she must have resolved to stay silent.
"You're referring to the smilkwags? The Vargwa? And their supreme bitch-queen Damatia?" Melcart asked, "If Patraquin met her in the open square he'd roast her alive."
"How do you know so much?" Saeya asked Melcart.
"I hear things. When I go shopping for clothes," he took a step back to show off his well-tailored outfit as proof. "I listen."
"They would not meet in the open square." Valari said, "is the thing."
Zed smirked at her and nodded in agreement.
Saeya narrowed her eyes and now seemed a little suspicious of Valari. Nobody spoke for a moment and Lon had a chance to weigh the information he'd just absorbed. He was only a little interested in the happenings in port; he pondered fireballs. He knew a thing or two about fire arts and he'd dreamed about making and shooting flaming projectiles his whole life. He'd considered himself an expert in Dundae but the entirety of his knowledge was encapsulated in six deepcombers' sheets and in less than a few paragraphs of text. How did that knowledge stack up here?
"Gladragos sent a fireball at the Slinger's beast king," Lon ventured. He glanced around at the others and waited to see how his factoid would be accepted.
"Gladragos!" Zed exploded in mirth. "My how he soaked up the press."
"Was he Emerald Eyes?" Saeya asked.
"Blue key," Melcart said.
"Blue Key News!" The old codger glowed at hearing the name of the famous sheets. "He wrote half those stories himself."
"He did?" Lon asked. "Did you know him?"
"Oh, certainly."
"Do you know what happened to him?"
"He moved on. Retired down to Crystal Meadow so I heard."
"He did?" Lon asked with the same amazement. "Crystal Meadow? He retired down into Oub?"
"I believe he was one who did yes," Zed said. "Many did. And thankfully they did. If it wasn't for them, we may not have you. Or you. Or you. Or any of you." The old sage raised his right hand and made the same curious wave motion again. He'd done the same thing to Atar and Hamlin in the construction site two nights previous. He smiled at everyone afterwards as if his gesticulation made his meaning obvious. Lon looked around the table to see if the others understood. They didn't. Everyone was equally mystified and looked clueless as to the connection. The sea drover wasn't sure how to pry-out any more information either as the old codger would ignore all sensible questions. His mind raced at hearing news of his childhood hero. What got him so excited was that in the very last Blue Key News edition he'd read, the company had indeed found and described a Crystal Meadows halfway down in Oub. Gladragos must have gone back.
"So... He chose to live with the Tokgorin?" Saeya finally asked.
"Uhuh," Zed said, "many did."
"Why?"
"Closer to the Secondsun."
Lon understood and he remembered Atar holding the empty beer bucket over his wooden cup.
"Did any of the Deepcombers go live anywhere else? Like with the Somgorin? Or the Geigorin?" Valari asked, uncharacteristically curious.
Zed just looked at her like she was suggesting something totally ridiculous and wasting everyone's time. He deigned to reply.
"Are there any Somgorin like us?" Melcart asked, "or Geigorin? I mean, who can move smilk? Are there Tokgorin masters?"
"Certainly." Zed said. " And they watch us."
*
Lunch came early in a small picnic basket. Only a few reptilians appeared at the door, and the first thing Lon noticed was their strappy footwear. These red lizards had special boots made for speed, and stealth. These guests appeared so quietly that nobody noticed them until the tallest visitor cleared his throat. Zed apologized and waved them forward.
"Whose turn today?" Lon asked
"Shepherd's honour," Saeya appeared enthusiastic. She finger-waved at the foremost entrant, a dashing young feigor who'd led the group here and carried most of the meal. The blond waited until his hands were free before she approached and hugged him, and the embrace was a little too warm for Lon's taste. They were old friends it seemed; perhaps he knew her from when she'd lived here as a child? After the tender moment had passed there was a brief exchange of slithering words and then Saeya turned to introduce him.
"Lon. This is Hosni. He's Atarskal's lead herdsfeigor." Saeya went on explain how was his job to make sure the animal pastures were safe and had adequate forage for the livestock. The tall reptilian bowed.
"Dass hass bone isess Hosni," Melcart attempted a standard Calbian salutation. Lon reckoned he'd murdered it, but the ranger bowed and replied, "Dashabonisius Master Mel."
Mel shot Lon a triumphant look. The sea drover ignored him and kept his eyes fixed on the visitors. The six guests were relatively young and Hosni was very handsome, despite his silly mustache. He had just the right bone structure to be dashing and he was not too old for Saeya.
Six herdsfeigors sat cross-legged in the shade to dine with the young masters. The noon meal was comprised of fresh baked buns filled with cold roast meat, cucumbers rubbed in salt, and soft white cheese. This was accompanied by a weak apple cider served in wooden cups from earthenware jugs.
Hosni told a story about a little shepherd who guarded sheep and goats amid the terrors in the Boobyland, that is to say, the first plane of Oub. The stories were related through awkward translation but it soon became clear the boy was Hosni's great great grandfather and he lived in the Chokey, under the Blackmont. Lon was very interested in learning about life in this place as he was intrigued by all things relating to the ancient prison.
The story entertained, despite being relayed one phrase at time by either Saeya or Zed. The tale boiled down to how a smart little shepherd grew skilled at keeping sheep alive in pasture plagued by mutant predators. Hosni stressed how the region is home to Tokal's most abhorrent creatures. The grey wolves were exceptionally clever and worked together with lookouts, decoys, and feints. Over-sized spiders would sting and cocoon young lambs in silky webs. The rivers were filled with many hostiles but the crocodiles could be paid-off with annual tributes. No wonder the Calbians wanted out, and now Lon looked around and he realized that Atarskal must be paradise for them. Despite how brutal it would be here in the wintertime, this place would be infinitely superior to their previous habitat, just ten miles north.
The meal ended and Saeya hugged the tall shepherd goodbye. All the lanky herdsfeigor repacked their picnic supplies and departed the grotto as quietly as they'd arrived.
Four young masters lay down under the linden tree. The girls lay flat on their backs on their blanket and closed their eyes. Lon made Melcart shift over so he could lie on the grass between them today, and be covered by the shade tree.
"I'm starting to see the Secondsun every time I close my eyes." The white-haired lad complained in an offhand way as he lay back on the grassy lawn.
"Starting too?" Mel sneered, "I can't remember a time when I didn't."
Saeya and Val just nodded glumly. The pattern was burned into their brains too.
The water gurgled and bubbled, and all four young masters drifted off to sleep under the linden's shady boughs.
*
That afternoon they discussed the role of the herdsfeigors and what Hosni would ever do if he faced overwhelming odds. This was Melcart's question; he still held out for the possibility of finding glory defending the compound from some unknown forest terror. Lon wondered about the Crols and Horne's progress. That would qualify as overwhelming odds he thought, but he said nothing. Hosni would run from the empire's swordfeigors and the cows would be the first casualties he reckoned; the besiegers would surely butcher the dairy herd straightaway as they'd have so many mouths to feed.
But Lon noted how nobody knew or care about the Croleans for when it came to listing possible threats, the worst they could conceive was the wildkin. Zed related how there were sightings of a new wildkin leader with a blue feathered staff. Lon told them all how he'd encountered this local despot, and he shared with them his story of seeing the wolf-faced feigor at the trick bridge they'd crossed about twenty miles south. He told them how they rode pony-goats, and how this young general had an leafy orange coat that clinked like copper leaves.
"They are wildkin. They are birdkin crossed with wolves." Zed relayed, "Vercino. He's their new potentate. Vercino. That's his name. Vercino." The old medico repeated the name three times because he must have liked how it sounded. "He's been seen leading larger bands this summer."
"He wears a copper coat that jingles when he rides." Lon stressed that detail.
"It's called a Campaign Coat," Zed informed them. "Each leaf is punched with the date and time of some earlier triumph. In this way he can bring all his victories with him into battle."
"Can he use Varget?" Saeya asked.
"Not like us, but yes." Zed replied. "You know these wildkin can do wonderful things with the language and they sometimes dredge-up lost words and commands that would have otherwise remained unknown. The birdkin can muster all sorts of illusions. If they get it working just right, they can make you to believe that giant birds fight on their side."
"Illusions can't hurt anyone." Lon said.
"Theirs' can," Zed explained, "their mystics project memories of their most painful wounds."
"How does that work?" Lon asked. He remembered how Clyde had said the same thing about the fur-clad defenders in Northerm where Horne stole the ring.
"Pray you never see it lad, or feel it."
"Will they come here?" Val asked.
"No," Zed answered, "there's nothing for them here. The cows, but Hosni watches the herd."
"So where will they make war?" Mel asked.
"The Blackmont." The medico packed a case and continued, "winter will come and snow will cool them, and next spring the Black's own bandits will rise-up and take it all back again."
"And Atarskal just sits pretty right here in the middle?" the malcontent asked.
"Why get involved?" Zed shrugged. "If any sizable force comes our way, we'll simply light the signal fire atop the Wolfspire."
"And then what happens?" Lon asked
"The port garrison will see it and march west and they'll collect militia from every skal all the way along up the port road. Other allies will come too."
"The Wolfspire is beside the falls?" Lon tried to follow the sage's finger.
"It glows the waterfalls and becomes a beacon you can see across the isle," Zed smiled his yellow teeth.
"It works best at night." Saeya added.
"So they're no threat at all?" Melcart asked, referring to the wildkin. He sounded disappointed.
"They're not trustworthy," Zed said. "They steal livestock and the fences. But what they covet most is children."
"Why?"
Zed merely shrugged and continued his work.