The Crow

  Saliman spread out his hands, smiling. "Do not get up, Narbila," he said. "Sufficient courtesy if we are permitted to double your guests, and to rest on those wonderfully soft cushions. My body is bruised from sleeping on rocks."

  "It is a hard journey from Turbansk," she said. "But, as always, you time your arrival well, Saliman. Unidan is just bringing dinner. But tell us, who are your friends?"

  While Soron and the children were seated and introduced, one of the Bards brought in various dishes from the adjoining room. There were meats in thick sauces, smelling of cardamom and coriander and garlic, and a basket of freshly baked unleavened bread, and a dish of spiced pulses, all served in shallow bowls of intricately engraved brass. Hem was so intent upon the food – he felt as if he had not eaten a solid meal for weeks – that he failed to catch anyone's name; suddenly it was as if a wild animal were clawing at his vitals. Zelika nudged him in his ribs.

  "It's rude to glare at food like a starving tiger," she muttered. "You must wash."

  Hem started, and cleansed his hands in a dish of water that was being passed around the table. Then, without further formality, they began eating. Ire was being very polite – for him, at least – and remained demurely on Hem's lap while he fed him titbits of meat. Although all the Bards eyed Hem's bird with wonder, they were too courteous to comment on Ire's presence.

  Soron tasted the food, and nodded approvingly.

  "Very good," he said. "How do you get goat meat down here? And wild duck? I see no farmlands!"

  "Fresh meat is rare, so you are lucky," said Hared, smiling. Hem noticed that his smile did not reach his eyes. "The northern entrance to Nal-Ak-Burat is not so forbidding as the Three Gates, if arduous in other ways, and supplies are more easily brought through there, if we can get them. And at a pinch – though we are not so desperate at present – there are fish in the lake and bats in the upper caves."

  Hem wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating bats.

  "Strange fish we find here," said Narbila. "Some do not have eyes. But good to eat, if cooked well."

  Hem's whole attention was on food for some time. He thought he had never had so delicious a meal. But once his initial hunger was allayed, he began to take notice of the Bards, and to sort out who was who. Narbila, the tall woman, and Hared seemed to bear the most authority, although there was little sense of a hierarchy. They were, Hem found out later, both members of Turbansk's Second Circle. The other three Bards – Orona, Nimikera, and Irisanu – had the paler skin of those from farther east; Nimikera originally hailed from Jerr-Niken, a School that had been razed by the Nameless One shortly after Pellinor had been destroyed, and Irisanu was from Baladh. Orona did not say where she came from.

  None of the Bards mentioned Turbansk until their guests had finished eating. Hem realized that this was out of courtesy, and not lack of interest; when Narbila asked Saliman for news of Turbansk, her voice trembled.

  Saliman told what had happened to the city, and the Bards listened attentively without interrupting, their eyes downcast. When he spoke of Juriken summoning the earthquake, the Bards gasped, and Hem saw that even Hared's eyes clouded. When Saliman finished his story, there was a long, heavy silence.

  "It is good to have news," said Hared at last. "Even such sorrowful news as that you bring. I thank you. We have heard nothing from Turbansk since Imank besieged it. Even our birds could not get past the Black Army."

  "Aye, well," said Soron. "It is a heavy grief, to live in such times as these, and to tell such things. It will get darker, I trow, before the end. But Hared, have you news yourself? Do you know what is happening in Annar? I confess, my heart hungers to hear of my old home, Til Amon."

  "Yes, we have news. I will speak of it later." Hared shot a swift glance at Hem and Zelika, which spoke plainly of his mistrust. Zelika opened her mouth to protest indignantly, but Saliman put his hand on her arm to silence her.

  "Speak now what you know," he said calmly. "There are none here who have not proven their trustworthiness."

  Hared's lips tightened, but he met Saliman's eyes and nodded.

  "If you say so, Saliman, then it must be so." He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "It is a complex tale. Annar, we hear, is on the brink of civil war. Enkir has sent out orders for men-at-arms to all Schools and cities, and those who refuse to supply them are considered to be traitors and enemies of the Light. We believe that Enkir plans an assault, probably on Lanorial, Ileadh, and Culain, and that it is likely that he plans it for when Imank establishes a base in the Suderain and pushes north into Annar. We expect, from what little we have found out about how he moves his forces, that might happen sooner rather than later."

  "It depends whether Imank decides to attack Amdridh," said Saliman, frowning. "It will not be nearly so easy to take as Baladh or Turbansk: the defenses are stout, and protected by both mountain and sea. And we do not know how dearly the siege of Turbansk has cost the Black Army; the earthquake must have had some effect, and if they wish to use Turbansk as a base, they will now have to rebuild some of the city. That will delay them, surely? And I judge that even the Nameless One cannot muster enough soldiers to attack both the north and west at once."

  "We are not so sure," said Narbila, leaning forward. "We suspect that the forces set upon Baladh and Turbansk are but a tithe of his strength. There are rumors that the Plains before the Kulkilhirien are black with soldiers, and yet more gather from within Den Raven. They could, of course, be rumors spread by Hulls, to make us despair... We need to be sure one way or another, but our activities have been curtailed of late – "

  "But what of civil war?" interrupted Soron eagerly. "What of Til Amon? Do you mean that Schools in Annar are now rebelling against Enkir?"

  "It is hard to know," said Hared. "You must understand, Soron, that much of the news from Annar is very uncertain, and comes through perilous routes. Our most reliable sources are the Pilanel messengers, who ride through all Annar, but in many places the Pilanel are persecuted now, and it is difficult for them to range as widely as once they did. We know that the Seven Kingdoms prepare for war; none of them believes any longer that Enkir will stay his fist."

  "What of the Schools of Annar? Do they stand back and say nothing? Has no one heard of the Balance?" Soron leaned over the table, his face flushed with anger.

  "It does not all go Enkir's way," Hared answered. "Since the rumors that he plans to invade the Seven Kingdoms, some Schools are rousing: not since the Long Wars has the alliance been threatened so. We hear that some Schools have lodged emissaries of protest with Norloch: Eleve, Lok, Innail, Lirigon, and Arnocen for certain. Enkir is not yet sure in his power, and must still woo the Bards of Annar. Til Amon and Eledh, we hear, say neither yea nor nay: they are two weeks' straight march from Norloch, and have neither mountain nor distance to protect them, should the hammer fall there first. And I think they are right to be afraid: Norloch is powerful and Enkir is likely to make an example of them, so that others will be afraid and follow."

  Soron's face had darkened as Hared spoke. "Even with those Schools you name, that leaves precious few to side with Norloch," he growled. "Ettinor, Desor... I can think of no others. The rest are all in the Seven Kingdoms, or abandoned, like Zimek; or destroyed by fire and war, like Jerr-Niken and Pellinor and Baladh and Turbansk."

  Without warning, Soron's face crumpled, and he hid his face in his hands. He made no sound, but his shoulders shook. Hem, who was sitting next to him, tentatively put his hand on his arm, wanting to comfort him. By a great effort of will, Soron collected himself; he looked up at Hared, his eyes damp and red. The other Bards watched him gravely.

  "Forgive me," he said. "There are too many losses. And this dark night has scarce begun."

  "There is nothing to forgive, my friend," said Orona. She spoke Suderain with a strange accent that Hem could not place. "The betrayal is not yours."

  "None should be ashamed of grief," said Hared, his face hard. "But now we have our backs to the wall. It is
fighting we should be thinking of now."

  "If the Annaren Schools are against Enkir – " began Soron.

  "Some are," Hared answered. "But we do not know how deep corruption runs within them."

  "Innail stands firm," said Saliman.

  "I believe you," Hared said. "But in others – even those who protest war against the Seven Kingdoms – there are many who are reluctant to see that Enkir has allied himself with the Nameless One, and stretches out a greedy claw for his share of the Seven Kingdoms. They listen to his blandishments, and reckon those who speak against him as rebels. We do not know in many places how the dice will fall."

  "But can't they see?" said Zelika impatiently. She had been listening intently to the conversation, but this was the first thing she had said since they had sat down. "Aren't Bards supposed to be wise?"

  "Wisdom oft trips itself," said Nimikera. "And you must remember, people are afraid. Enkir promises that he alone can defend the Light against the Dark. And as things worsen in Annar, they turn to him as their hope. The defeat of Baladh and Turbansk only strengthens his hand."

  Zelika looked as if she might spit, but said nothing further. Hem knew how she felt. After what he had seen in Turbansk, the thought of Bards working with the Dark made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach.

  "The other thing is, you must not forget the Stewards," Nimikera continued. "In many places in Annar, even where the Schools hold firm, there is much distrust of Bards, and the people have turned against them."

  "That is not always the fault of the people," said Saliman, with a note of disgust. "I do not know if you have seen Ettinor Bards in action – they do not deserve the name."

  "That is true, I admit," said Nimikera. "Arrogance and complacency have done much to damage the cause of Barding, and we all know the Light has been in retreat for many decades, dozing in the sun as the Nameless One gathered his strength. But neither is it always the fault of the Bards. The Nameless One has taken great care to sow suspicion of Bards and the Lore, these past decades. And now it is clear how well he has set his seed; malice and suspicion grow everywhere, and no man trusts his neighbor. Most of Annar now is traversed by armies of brigands, which kidnap children, we hear, as well as forcing farmers and others to be soldiers. Some say they are led by Hulls, but it seems not all of them are. Enkir claims these are armies of rebel Bards, though we are certain that they roam under his orders."

  "So my friend, dark news, as ever," said Narbila. "It is hard to see hope anywhere. All goes the way of the Nameless, and the Light darkens. To fight what we face is to court despair. But to bow our heads and submit to the Nameless One is beyond thinking; we must fight, even if we know there is no hope for us. And we must remember, we are not alone."

  A gloomy silence settled over the table. At last Hared stirred, and looked at Saliman.

  "But tell me, Saliman: what of your own plans? Who are these children you brought with you? Do you plan to stay with us, to help us in our work, or are other things afoot that we know nothing of?"

  Saliman grinned at Hared. "You are perceptive, as always, Hared," he said.

  "I'd be a dead man, else," answered the other Bard, studying Saliman narrowly.

  "It is true. Well, my answer to your last question is both yes and no. I think we must spy out the extent of the forces arraigned against Annar, and take that knowledge north. And there are those plans we spoke of a month ago, which I wish to discuss with you. Once those duties are fulfilled, I plan to go to Annar."

  "To find Maerad," Hem said, interrupting. "Maerad?" said Hared. "My sister."

  "Do you mean Maerad of Pellinor?"

  Hem nodded, and Hared looked at him properly for the first time.

  "She's your sister? Yes, I have heard of Maerad of Pellinor, and that some say the Fated One has been found. To be honest, I do not put great faith in prophecies. And it seems to me very unlikely that a young girl could be the hero foretold in song and legend."

  "But she is, anyway." Hem's bottom lip stuck out. "Whether you believe it or not, she will bring down the Nameless One, in his darkest rising." He had decided that he did not like Hared.

  "In any case," said Saliman, giving Hem a warning look. "North we will go."

  Hem woke and stretched luxuriously, thinking for a moment he was in Turbansk: he lay on a palliasse stuffed with rushes and some sweet-smelling herb, and was covered with a warm blanket. For days he had been sleeping on stone, with only a pack for a pillow; this was comfort beyond belief. But then, with a start, he remembered that he was in Nal-Ak-Burat.

  He sat up and looked around. Ire, who had snuggled up next to Hem, gave a sleepy caw of protest at being disturbed. Hem was in a tiny chamber, scarcely larger than the palliasse he lay on, with a low door covered with a length of heavy woven fabric. Light spilled through the door, and outside he could hear a low hubbub of voices. He began to listen; surely they were little children? He shook his head. He was who knows how far underground, in a city of stone; there could be no children here... There was a faint crash, as if something had been dropped on the floor, and someone started crying.

  Consumed by curiosity, Hem pulled back the cloth over the doorway and peered into the next room, a fair-sized chamber that opened into about a dozen of these sleeping rooms. He had indeed heard children, at least half a dozen of them. None looked older than five years old, and some wore bandages: one on her head, and another little boy had both his arms wrapped. They were playing with some carved blocks of wood: the crying Hem had heard had erupted after a squabble over a particularly desirable block.

  Zelika was sitting at a table watching them, with a child scarcely more than a baby on her lap. When she noticed Hem, she looked up and smiled.

  "What are they doing here?" Hem asked in wonder.

  "They were all rescued after the Black Army overran Savitir," she said, speaking in Annaren so the children could not understand them. "Probably their parents were murdered. And there was nowhere else for them to go, so Irisanu brought them here, where at least they'll be safe."

  "So who else lives in this benighted place, then?" Hem stepped out, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I don't remember these last night."

  "They were probably all asleep when we went to bed." Zelika gently jogged the baby on her lap, stroking his hair, while the others played about her feet. "This one is Banu, the others say. Nobody knows where he is from. He's sweet, no? What we call a sunchild."

  Disconcerted by Zelika's sudden motherliness, Hem stared at Banu. He was the color of dark honey, with black curls like Zelika's, and big brown eyes. He was chewing on a piece of bone, and dribbling profusely.

  "He's teething, poor baby," said Zelika. She rubbed his gums hard with her fingers and Banu bit down on her knuckle.

  "So they put us in with the babies last night?" said Hem. He sat down with Zelika. "That would be Hared, I suppose. He didn't like us much."

  "Oh, Nimikera said not to worry about that. It's just his way."

  "So, what are they going to do with us now? Keep us locked up here?"

  "We're not locked up. Anyway, it's nice to play with babies again." Zelika pushed her hair out of her eyes. "All their families are dead or missing, poor chicks. No, Mutir, give that to Asra." She carefully put Banu down on the ground and firmly took a block away from a little boy with thunderously drawn eyebrows. "She had it first."

  Instead of howling, as Hem had expected, the little boy meekly gave up the block and began to play quite happily with another toy. Hem watched Zelika in wonder for a little longer. This was a side of her he had not suspected. Not for the first time, he wondered about Zelika's family; she must have had little brothers or sisters, or maybe small cousins. If so, she never spoke about them.

  "Where's Saliman?" he asked restlessly.

  "If you go through that door and down the passage, you'll find the room we ate in last night. I think Saliman's around there somewhere," Zelika said vaguely. She had picked Banu up again and he had grabbed a lock of her hai
r in his fist and was trying to eat it.

  Hem walked down the short passage to the room they had been in the night before – at least, he supposed it was the night before. It was so long since he had seen day and night that he no longer had any idea what time it might be in the upper world. He heard voices, one of which he was sure was Saliman's, and he hesitantly looked through the doorway. Hared and Saliman were deep in conversation at the stone table, but no one else was there. Saliman looked up when he heard Hem's footsteps.

  "Hem! Come in. I suppose you are looking to break your fast?"

  Hared said nothing, but kept his eyes fixed on Hem as he walked toward them.

  "Er – yes, I was wondering if there was anything to eat." Despite himself, Hem blushed with awkwardness.

  "There's some dohl in the next room, I believe," said Saliman. "See for yourself. It might be a bit cold: you slept long."

  Hem walked across the chamber, conscious all the time of Hared's gaze drilling into his back. Next door was a large galley, with a stone trough still full of water for washing dishes, and an iron oven. On the oven, as Saliman had promised, was a covered pot of dohl. Hem found a clean bowl and spoon, and some honey, on a shelf nearby. After he had helped himself, he took a deep breath and went back into the next room. He sat down with his meal at the far end of the table, trying to look as if he weren't there.

  "Fifteen, at least," Hared was saying. "It is hard to know who was captured and who was killed. We haven't been able to get out there since."

  Saliman whistled. "And from Nuk Caves?"

  "Another six killed. Munira saw them blasted before she got away. But we are being hunted like vermin."

  Saliman stared down at the table. "I suppose you have considered whether there is an informant in our midst."