Chapter Forty Six – Wolf
Early in the afternoon they were sitting on cushions, tired, mellow, full of good food, the Suethelhin continued around them in its crazy, noisy, whooping, screaming, ale-swilling way. The frenzy of the night-time couldn't be sustained but this day was even more impressive and shocking – the partying wasn't quite so crazy but the fact that it just went on, and on was enough to frighten a newcomer. But Pazu could detect a different tone creeping in now. It was probably sheer exhaustion but he felt like people around him were enjoying themselves but being thoughtful about it too. Winter wasn't over and there were hardships to endure before spring brought a lengthening of the days, but hope was here and the fear of the night had passed.
Children played with their gifts, wooden swords, or hobby horses or fishing lines or balls and hoops or clothing, and the adults too showed their gifts among their friends.
Two of Shuna's friends, Torhpa and Peta had come and they sat with Shuna, Sheeta and Pazu and talked and joked. The men were telling Pazu about farming, how it was done here. The technicalities of shoveling yaoko dung. It wasn't a case of the way you did it, Peta was explaining, just that you had to do it all the time, and a big shovel helped, the hairy bastards made so much. Shuna was chuckling and Pazu suspected this was not so much a lesson for him, more of an entertainment for them. Sheeta suddenly spoke up.
"Oh, our yaoko! Pazu they'll need feed and water and cleaning out."
"I'll do it. Won't take long."
He got up.
"I'll come help you. I can show you some real technique," said Shuna, smiling at Peta.
"Taemo."
Shuna stood with him. He caught Sheeta's wink.
"Getting the hang of the language a little?" he asked Pazu
"Hai, a linhi.(1)"
The two men went out. Sheeta smiled at the two brothers.
"Alright?" she said, "let's do it."
The two men grinned, and with the help of some others they got to work.
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
It was nearly dusk by the time Pazu and Shuna had finished. Pazu stank, he'd been working fast and hard to get the job done quickly. He needed a bath but the fires were banked up in his and Sheeta's house, not hot enough to heat water.
"Come to mine, there's always a fire there. Hot water."
Pazu bathed at Shuna's farm and it was full dark when they got back to the hall. Just as they got to the doorway Shuna stopped.
"Oh, I left my drinking cup back at the farm. I will see you inside."
"Alright."
Pazu lifted an arm to push the door open but it opened for him. He was about to say taemo to the man inside but the word died on his lips. There were two men, dressed for hunting, one holding each door open. Leather caps, fur coats, hide skirts, leggings, boots, swords. He didn't know them. As they looked at him they both went down on one knee and bowed their heads. Puzzled, he stepped inside the hall.
It was silent. Full of people, but no-one was dancing, or singing, or playing music. No one drank, no one ate, no one laughed, no one spoke. They were all stood, silently watching. Watching him. He frowned.
what is this?
A group of men stepped forwards, they wore traditional shirts. He knew them. The four brothers. Bhema spoke, just two words.
"Welcome back."
The man took his arm, another of the brothers put a hand on his shoulder, a third tousled his hair in greeting. The four men led him, guided him towards the crowd. A lane parted between the people. Those at the front, forming the sides of the avenue, had candles. They lifted them up, the lit candles formed a golden pathway of light. A girl stepped forward, a sweet little thing she was, four or five years old. She lifted something in her hand. A circle of greenery, a crown of some kind. Instinctively he bowed his head and the girl placed the crown of winter berries, holly and ivy on his hair. She giggled, turned pink and ran off.
Down the golden avenue he was slowly led, on either hand people watched, silent and smiling. As he passed them they bowed their heads, those not bearing candles descending to one knee and placing their palms together.
what on earth is this?
The avenue ended at the hearth, and here Councillor Kamaesa stood, leaning on her strange twisted black stick. Her eyes were steady, she held the years, the centuries in her gaze. He began to understand. Pazu looked around. He could not fail to notice, to one side of the hall, against the wall where an open space had been cleared, two wooden seats on a raised plinth. The seats had high wing backs like thrones. They were black, the dirt of many seasons, of countless occupants, discoloured the wood. The floor in front of them was strewn with the boughs of fir trees, the sweet scent of pine sap was sharp in the room. One of the thrones was empty, the other, it did not surprise him to see, was occupied.
He gazed upon her and she on him. She wore the green shirt he had just given her, and her red hair was piled up on her head in a pretty tumbled style. Pinned up yet with bits hanging down and sticking out. It looked deliberate but was pleasingly natural and windswept. On her hair was a similar crown of winter greenery and sprigs of red berries. On her forehead was the carved wooden mushroom clasp. The vee neck of her shirt swept down and beautifully promised what lay beneath. On her breast lay the stone, softly glowing. Her knees were together, her hands lay on the armrests of her seat and her face was calm.
Somewhere a soft violin began to play, a dreamy gentle melody it was.
Councillor Kamaesa spoke. Within a few moments Pazu knew why. He also knew what this ceremony was and that the words she uttered were hallowed by the years. This was a traditional welcome. The Furtuen Caemarth – the Feast of Homecoming.
"Friends, neighbours, loved ones, people. We meet here in celebration. What was gone away is returned. Who we said sad farewells to is with us once again. Who we shed tears for is come back. Cease the weeping, for today we know joy. Cease the lamenting, for today our songs are sung. No more say your poems, your art has brought forth flesh and blood. Still the prayers, for today they are answered. Endure the last of your thirst, for today we drink. Stretch out your fingers for today warm hands return to hold us. Be not alone and cold in your beds, for tonight they will be warm. For the traveler who was away we say welcome. For the boy who walked we see come back a man. For the lover who patiently awaits, we say hail the husband. To he who sought manhood we say, become a man, become one with us, become again of our village, become here in a place where you have worth. Man that returns we welcome you!"
She stepped back in front of Pazu and despite her age Kamaesa made a smooth low bow. Her tone changed, now she spoke not from custom, from duty. But from the heart. What she said now wasn't scripted because there had never been a Furtuen Caemarth like this. And because these words were from the heart, so was his gaze. He turned his head and looked at the girl on the throne, the girl he loved. And as the words poured around them, so she looked at him. And as the room was filled with the old woman's words, so Sheeta's heart went out to this boy, this beautiful boy. She held him in her heart and knew she lacked nothing, not one thing, she was made whole.
"Friends, neighbours, loved ones, people. Today we celebrate not just a Furtuen Caemarth. Each Caemarth is special, each is a life full grown and come home to be fruitful and to be a part of this community. But over my years of serving this community there come certain days, certain events that are different. Special. Today is one. At the feast of Suethehlin we welcome back a traveler for whom we have waited not one year, but many. The longest pead-lth-u'or Gondoa has known is over. Not one year but seven hundred. Not one generation has withered awaiting this day, but thirty. Thirty generations of song, of prayer, of poem. We have many songs written just for this day, awaiting it. Wanting it. Today, in our sight those songwriters may be at peace for their work is done. Those generations are rewarded. None of them waited in vain. Those hearts broken in endless longing will beat again. In us. Today in us is the time come. Welcome the man. Paetsu Fuhmonhir is no longer forgotten, no longer lost. He is remembered, he is found. We welcome him."
The old woman came forwards and placed her hands on his shoulders. For a moment she was close and he saw the depth of love and satisfaction in her eyes. This was a woman who didn't concern herself with Sky or Soil, this was a woman happy to witness, in her dying years, the end of a story too long in the telling. She surprised him by closing the gap between them and placing a gentle kiss on each of his cheeks.
"Paetsu," she said quietly, something for only him to hear, "welcome home. Just be yourself, nothing more is needed."
She stepped back.
"And now, manservants, if you will, it is the time of cleansing and clothing."
Sheeta sat silently watching. Her mind could not help but be drawn to recall another boy, a sweet, kind, strong young man who had taken her heart and gone away and never come back. And today now, instead, she had this. Life was cruel and beautiful in equal measure. But now she was given a measure of the beautiful, and despite her ache for the one now lost she rejoiced in the one who was found. She said a sweet, private, silent goodbye to those lost and cast him from her heart. She opened herself to welcome the one who had come back.
Bhema and his brothers stepped forward. He spoke quietly, his mouth against Pazu's ear.
"Don't move. And don't be ashamed. Sheeta has told us about how you might react but please just relax, you are among friends here."
Pazu gave a small nod. He wore the clothes he'd taken from the farm, a dead mans breeches, a dead man's shirt. Pazu wore his old moleskin waistcoat and the now battered aviator jacket, his Porthaven boots – they too were showing wear. He was, he realised, a dead man walking. Walking home. One of the men bent down and removed his boots. Another slipped the jacket from his arms, a third removed the waistcoat. He was slowly undressed by the hearth, his skin warmed by the flames, his bare skin lit by the dancing light. Dark outside, the hall was lit by many candles but the main source of light was the big central fire, and near it stood the man, naked, his flesh coloured, flickering and glowing. The four brothers stripped him and cast away his dirty clothing, throwing it piece by piece into the fire, as each was consumed Councillor Kamaesa would say a word. Pazu knew the word "emshieh", end or finish, his traveling was symbolically complete, his journey over.
As his nakedness was revealed the young girls craned their necks to see, as did quite a number of the older married women. Nakedness was not a thing of shame for these people, but it was a thing of beauty, and none who looked upon the man would deny he was beautiful. A few girlish giggles played about the dark space. Standing sideways to the fire Pazu's silhouette on the wall showed that he was, truely a man. Sheeta sat, her hands gripping the arms of her throne and gazed upon him in wonder and delight. She knew him, she knew all of him and loved all of him, and now she knew she wanted to love him again, so much she wanted his love, and soon, like that first time.
Bhema and the others poured anointing oil over Pazu and with ceremonial sponges wiped his skin, the symbolic removal of dirt, of the old surface, of the dust of the long traveled road. The oil was scented, musky and fruity. Pazu stood with arms outstretched and he kept his eyes on Sheeta, wanting her to see him. For him she was the only person present, he and she were alone and he wanted her to look upon him. That sensation of needing to be seen, of wanting to be naked in front of her that he had experienced that strange evening by her bath in the Marinaen farmhouse came back to him. Hundreds of people were watching but for him they did not exist. He looked at her, at the shape of her front beneath her shirt and wanted to be close to her. He controlled his mind and his flesh, nothing changed - he did not grow. He knew that his body would not change, and was at least grateful for that. As the anointing oil was applied to his chest, his shoulders, his flat stomach, his haunches and his legs, she sat, a gentle heat moving inside her, looking at his skin, at the glistening oil in the firelight, at his body moving with the breaths that filled it. Although she wanted to lay with him tonight she chose to resist that and save that meeting for their wedding, whenever that might be.
The Councillor clapped her hands and the men stood back. From behind the crowd a procession of young women approached and stood in a line. In their arms each held a bundle. Bhema took a shirt from the first girl and unfolding it, Councillor Kamaesa touched the steel ball on the end of her stick against it.
"Clothe the man. Be this a cloth of tradition."
While his brother Khuaema raised aside the holly and ivy crown, Bhema lifted the shirt and drew it over Pazu's head, straightening it, adjusting and putting on a belt. He stood back. Khuaema replaced the crown.
Peta went to the second girl and took from her a pair of leggings. The Councillor blessed them.
"Protect the man when he walks, preserve his skin by these wrappings."
Peta knelt before Pazu and applied the long grey cotton strips around and around his legs, even to high up under the shirt. Despite the intimate contact, still Pazu felt no shame. That surprised him. Peta finished his task and stood.
Torhpa took something from the third girl's arms. And the Councillor blessed this also.
"Warm the man when he rides. May this hide be protection in the saddle."
Torhpa stood before Pazu and fastened around him under the shirt the knee length soft hide riding skirt. It was a creamy yellow colour and oils had been applied to it so that it was soft and flexible, like chamois.
The last of the brothers went to the fourth girl and from her arms lifted something dark and shiny. The Councillor blessed this in turn.
"Haemshi of status, worn by men, by this show this man to be who he is."
Khuaema took the coat, the long robe and standing behind Pazu slid it onto his arms and shoulders. Coming around in front of him he linked the gold chain at the waist and the robe stayed open. The Haemshi was beautiful. It was made of dark grey cloth shot through with grey silk so that in the light it shimmered like deep water, like a lake under the black mountain. Stitched around the collar, across the breast and back and around the hem were silver and bluish threads that formed clouds, billowing stormy nimbus, nimble thin soaring cirrus and fluffy storybook childhood cumulus. It was a work of art, and it was plain that here, in this dark hall stood the Sky. The Sky was come down among them.
Shuna appeared, and he walked to the last girl. Kissing his eldest daughter's forehead he took her load. A pair of soft ankle boots. Not high riding boots, not for travelling but ones for wearing in the home, comfortable and light. The boots a man would wear when he came home. The big man nodded to Pazu and knelt at his feet. He did a strange thing. Dipping his fingers in the vessel of ceremonial oil and coating them he lifted Pazu's feet in turn and wiped the warm oil over them. Pazu looked down at Shuna's head. He had only just begun to know this man, yet by this act of service he knew Shuna was a man he would get to know well, a man to be trusted and leaned on in times of need. Here, after Sheeta, was his first friend. Shuna slipped the boots onto his feet. He stood and taking Pazu's hands in his own, he like Councillor Kamaesa before him, kissed Pazu on both cheeks.
The five girls filed away and the five men also. The Councillor came forwards and placed the last, the completing symbol on him. She held a circle of gold, a coin-like filigree disc some three inches in diameter. By way of a catch she linked it to the haemshi chain. She stepped back and loudly spoke.
"Bruaendell! Behold! A man is come back!"
A great cheer rent the air and people clapped and came forward and hugged him. Children danced about and women kissed him. Men slapped his back and shook his shoulders.
"Paetsu Fuhmonhir is no more. He is no longer forgotten but returned. I name you Paetsu Rhaeahul,(2) the Prince who returned. Take your seat."
He walked through the crowd, the people holding his arms aloft. At the edge of the carpet of pine boughs the crowd stopped and would go no further. Pazu stepped onto the green springy floor and walked towards the thrones, towards her. She stood and stepped down from the plinth and held out her arms. He went to her, the last two or three steps they each took at a run and they came together and held tight, squeezing like they would never let go. More loud cheering filled the hall. Sheeta raised her head from his chest and looked at him.
"Welcome home my lovely boy."
"Yau taemo, Lucita."
"Oh, my, you look wonderful. I want to eat you up!" she beamed at him and led him to his seat.
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
A small table was placed before them and food and drink served. Music began and songs were sung and dancers danced. He grinned at her and she at him, they talked about things that concern only the happy, that concern only lovers, two people who plan to be wed, things that don't concern us. The rest of the gathering dined and drank also and as was their custom, soon the place became rowdy and hot and vibrant with life. There was as yet no communal dancing, this festival was a controlled thing, the music and dances and songs were carefully arranged and were of a certain type, celebrations for a homecoming. After the meal the music ended and the Councillor again stood beside the carpet of winter greenery.
"Quiet, please, may there be silence, silence for the newest man in Bruaendell. Paetsu Rhaeahul, pray, speak of your journey."
"It's traditional," Sheeta whispered in his ear, "you tell us of your year away and most importantly, what you have learned, what changed you, what was important."
"A speech? I make a speech?"
"Hm."
"I didn't go away for a year. What do I say? That doesn't apply to me."
"Say whatever you like, whatever is important. Go on, stand."
He did so and the cheering died away. He looked around the room, at the expectant faces ruddy in the firelight. What to say? He had no idea. Nervously he found his hand was on the filigree disc. He lifted it and looked at it. It was a simple design, an airscrew, a multi-bladed propeller, the six blades linking the outer wheel to a central boss. To them it was his symbol. Something came to him. He drew in breath and spoke.
For the next hour he talked, he told them simply everything, his whole story. His youth, his work, his family, his fathers dreams of flying and his own, of finding the fabled Laputa. He told of one night last year when his life was changed by the girl sat beside him, how she came into his life and together they experienced a whirlwind adventure. As he spoke the small children came and sat on the green floor in front of him, two dozen of them or more, their little faces lit with wonder. Their boundless imaginations took them on trains and into caverns and up into aeroplanes and floating in the sky and they were chased by pirates, none of which, even though it sounded marvelous, they understood. He spoke of a journey that led through danger and discovery, through tragedy and destruction. He told them of his journey here, of life on a farm, of life traveling in freezing autumn rain and through mud, of sleeping in woods and fighting men with guns (the boys seemed excited, the girls merely puzzled). He told of the piteous debris of war, of the stupidity of men. He told of a flight of escape in a flying machine and a week spent hiding in a snowy forest where he healed a sick girl and she told him about them, about their village. The girl lay in her bed and told him all about you – he looked down at the toddlers and they gaped in awe "us?" their eyes said.
"Yes," he smiled, "I know all about you, Sheeta told me everything, so don't be naughty, I know what you get up to."
They looked fearful and some of them turned around seeking their mothers. He spoke then of a hard walk through the forest and of meeting two Gondoans with whom they ate and journeyed on and so came over the wintry hills and home.
Then he talked of flying machines and men's dream of flight, of steam engines and great metal monsters higher than a house that roared and spit flame and dug holes in the ground big enough to build this hall inside (the childrens eyes were wide as saucers). He spoke of ships on the sea and a forest that floated in the sky and a mechanical man and flowers and fantastic animals.
And finally he spoke of here, this village, these people. He spoke of good food and warm fires and welcoming arms, of cattle and crops and friends, of children. He ended by saying that he had journeyed far and seen many things but at the end of it all he had come here and prayed and had his pain taken away. He had seen a sunrise this morning that had filled him with more wonder than any of the things he had experienced. He ended by saying that of all the marvelous things there were in the world the best was right here. People. A community. Friends. And love. Especially love.
"Hold on to these things, for these are what life is really about. Especially the last."
To the little children he said, "Love your mothers and fathers and friends, love your brothers and sisters. And when you grow up find a special friend and love them, marry them and enjoy life, that is the most important thing of all."
He sat down. Sheeta looked at him, her eyes wondering what this might mean. For a moment there was silence. Then people began to clap. There was more clapping and someone stood up, another did and then another until the whole hall rose to its feet and the applause became a roaring, rushing thing. Sheeta put her hand on his and held it, stunned that he would place friends and family and loved ones above his love of flying.
"What did you mean?"
"You know, as of yet, I'm not sure. If I do build flying machines I will always be at home here."
"I watched you with the children," she smiled, "you will make a great father."
"Soon," he looked at her, "I want to."
The music began again and the songs and the dances, but before them there was one song that needed to be sung. By singing it the girl was making a public commitment. This song, these words now and these gestures told the crowd that she would marry this man, she welcomed him home, not just to her village and her farm, not even just to her arms, but hidden in the song was a message the adults understood but the children didn't. She was offering him everything, all that she was, even herself, especially herself.
Sheeta stood and spoke to the musicians and a tune began, a gentle rhythm on a deep drum, then a lute and a violin, a melody grew and flowed around the hall. Sheeta called for four of her friends and the girls stood by the glowing hearth and sang not words but a sweeping series of notes, girlish and smooth, their sweet voices swooped and hummed like a caress. Then she walked to Pazu and taking his hands in hers drew him from his seat and walking backwards in front of him pulled him onto the green floor. She let go of him and began to dance. To the violin and lute, to the girls voices and the rhythmic drum she danced around him. She was an earthy, a gentle and flowing thing, white legs and green cloth, flaming hair and sparkling eyes, slender hands and dainty feet. He watched her, as she passed before him he would reach out and they would briefly hold hands. She turned on the spot and ran and swayed and the music ran through to its end then began a second time. This time Sheeta did not dance but stayed in place, although not still, she swayed to the music and sang. She sang not in Oistrakh-Auera but in the language Pazu knew.
He listened and remembered. He remembered a cave. And her then, that night.
I'm here where the daylight begins
The fog on the lamplight slowly thins
Air on the air is the way
The safety of islands fading away
Fly your sky
Meet your storm
All I want is to be your harbour
The light in me
Will guide you home
All I want is to be your harbour
Fear is the brightest of signs
The shape of the boundary you leave behind
So sing all your questions to sleep
The answers are out there in the roaring deep
You've got a journey to make
There's your horizon to chase
So go far beyond where we stand
No matter the distance
I'm holding your hand
Fly your sky
Meet your storm
All I want is to be your harbour
The light in me
Will guide you home
All I want is to be your harbour
When she finished singing all he could do was hold her in his arms and say yes, we will, as soon as we can.
Later in the night, when they were tired and things were quieter she asked the violinist and the lute player and two of the whistle players to play a certain tune. Pazu didn't know it, but it was very mellow and gentle and delightful on the ears, like a delicious caress. There wasn't a single harsh or discordant thing about it. He sat on his throne, a drink in his hand and Sheeta came and knelt in front of him. She sat a while and they merely looked, let their eyes enjoy each other. Then she knelt up and tilted her head and kissed him, and staying close and singing quietly, she sang him this.
You are much burdened
With the earth of a hundred nations in your skin
You didn't recognize me
For the light in my eyes is strange
It was years ago, I know
When he strained to tell me your whole truth
That you were not mine to save
That you could not change
Would it be enough to go by
If we could sail on the wind and the dark
Ride on storms in the middle of the night
And not pull us both apart
Would it be enough to go by
If there's an isle flying 'gainst the tide
Would it be enough to live on
If my love could keep you alive
I've seen a lot of castles
I've seen a lot of whirling sky machines
But it doesn't matter any more
They are crumbled in the winds of change
So I turn back to breathing
And I learned a few good reasons to cry
And I finally caught hold
Of you when you were far away
I'll carry the weight
I'll carry the weight
Of you I swear
I'll carry the weight
I'll carry the weight
Of you
Would it be enough to go by
If we could sail on the wind and the dark
Ride on storms in the middle of the night
And not pull us both apart
Would it be enough to go by
If there's an isle flying 'gainst the tide
Would it be enough to live on
If my love could keep you alive
So will you let me come in
Just as you find me
With the soil around my blood
I offer a mere dream
Breaking through my ice
Your voice in its anger
I only want to see if I can shake you out of sleep
And bring you out onto this flooded sky
To be mine
So carry the weight
Carry the weight
Of me in your arms
Carry the weight
Carry the weight
Of me
Would it be enough to go by
If we could sail on the wind and the dark
Ride on storms in the middle of the night
And not pull us both apart
Would it be enough to go by
If there's an isle flying 'gainst the tide
Would it be enough to live on
If my love could keep you alive
If my love could keep you alive
If my love could keep you alive…(3)
He knew what she was saying. He knew she could offer him nothing, and was nothing enough? He had visions and dreams and desires to be different, his past made him different, and he wanted to make a difference. She had none of that, she merely had herself and was offering all she had. Her love. Was it enough?
Pazu sat and wondered. Was it? Was there anything more on this earth that he craved? He thought hard, and slowly, at the end of this long day, these two long days of wonder he found his answer.
"That was beautiful. Is that an old song?"
"It's an old tune, it's very traditional and lots of love songs have been written to that tune. But no, it's not an old song. I wrote it, a few days after you arrived here."
"Thank you, Sheeta, it's lovely. Your love means a lot to me. More now than I think it did before."
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
The celebrations continued into the night, long past midnight. They danced together and he even played his trumpet, happy, bouncy lively tunes. Very few of the Gondoans had heard a trumpet and some of the small children were frightened by its noise. He could, however make it sound mellow, gentle even by using a baffle of cloth lightly pushed into the horn.
But eventually weariness crept over the party and it ended, winding down at it's own pace. Some carried on, some slept, the last few drinkers gathering at one end of the hall while the floor was littered with sleeping families and couples embracing in their dreams.
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
It was dark and the candles had burned low. He sat up. The hall was full of snoring slumbering people, in a far corner a group was talking. A small group still stood at the bar drinking. His full bladder demanded attention. He lifted her arm off him and got up, stepping carefully over people. He pushed open the hall doors. Outside the door three men were talking in low tones and smoking pipes. He nodded to them and went across the lane to a cluster of bushes.
It was a very dark night, among the blackest he'd known. There was low overcast, no stars, no moons and the breeze made it bitterly cold. He did what he had to do and turned to go.
Something caught his eye. There was a fire burning a little way into the field beyond the bushes.
who has a campfire lit tonight of all nights? when we are all inside?
He looked at it uncertainly.
In the hall Sheeta turned over and reached for him. She mumbled in her sleep.
no, come back
Pazu moved through the bushes closer to the fire, there was someone sitting beside it, his hands held out, warming himself. Sheeta moaned.
stay away. it's him
The man by the fire was tall. Even hunched over, sat on a box, Pazu could see he was a big fellow. He wore a big hairy Gondoan travelers coat and boots and he had a leather cap on his head. His breath plumed out in the darkness.
"Come closer friend, 'tis a cold night to be alone, eh?"
The tall man turned to him, but the peak of the cap cast a shadow over his features, preventing Pazu seeing his face. He had a deep gruff voice. Pazu stepped out of the bushes.
In her sleep Sheeta's eyes moved behind her lids, to and fro they fretfully swept.
paetsu, please no, he'll take you. don't let him take… I don't want to lose you
"Come talk with me. We have a lot to discuss."
He stepped forward.
you have a lot to discuss with me? who are you? I've never set eyes on you before.
"Good. Come into the firelight where I can see you."
and I can see you, thought Pazu.
no, Sheeta called out, no Paetsu, he will take you. Her fist closed, gripping, holding, trying to pull him close to her, to hold onto him.
"You know, Forgotten Prince, Prince of Nothing, I could have you. If I wanted. I could take you now, right here. No-one can hear us. Not if they were stood right where you are standing could they hear us. Just you and me here Little Lost Prince. Now if I were to take you, the Princess would remain a Princess and wouldn't fall. She'd be sad of course, but what's a broken heart in return for peace across the land, hm? The little squabbling men need no longer squabble and there will be no fighting. Sure, I'd lose out on all of them, all their nice warm little lives, so much I love them, I do. Their tasty little warm bodies. But, you see, instead I'd have you. And that would be a fair exchange."
"I know you…" Pazu stared at the dark that hid the face, knew the hoarse voice.
A bead of saliva hung down from under the cap. Pazu watched it hang, fascinated as it slowly lengthened. Then a tongue came out and down from the hidden face, a long lolling tongue. It swung and slurped the string of saliva back up and the man licked his lips and smacked his chops. Like a dog smelling a good meal.
no, no. this can't be. you're a spirit, a made up story man. you're not real…
Pazu was sweating, shaking.
"You think you know me?" Maerth-dhu asked him, "But do you? Do you really?"
With a large clawed paw he pulled the leather cap from his head and his wolf ears sprung out. He stood up and Pazu had to tilt his head right back to keep looking at the dog-man's face. He had to be nine or ten feet tall. He bent his head down low towards Pazu. His dog breath stank.
"You know, Princey Boy, I don't think you do know me. Not really. If you did, you'd know yourself. You see I could take you now, but I won't. And do you know why? Because I don't need to. All the death and sorrow and hate and orphans, you know what? You are going to do my work for me."
He smiled and his long yellow teeth showed in the firelight.
"And me? I'm going to sit right here and enjoy the show. I don't need to do my work. I am you and you are me. You are from the caverns too, like me. Just like me. And like me, you kill well. I've watched you. One here, one there, the random touch of death. Hm, you're good. And you're going to get better. Oh, much better."
dream… it has to be a dream… nightmare… all that food… Pazu, wake up. wake up!
The disgusting stinking face came down close to Pazu, closer than he could stand. The fetid breath gusted warm into his nose. Pazu retched, he was going to be sick. The dog-man's breath was the stink of death.
"And you owe me, Prince Boy. At the farm, that dead family was my payment. That Bitch and I made a deal. You two get to rest and have a nice lovey time together and grow stronger. I get the family. It was a good deal. Me and the Bitch do deals all the time. I bet that shocks you, hm? The way of the world lad, the way of the world. Life and death. It all comes around. But you said that stupid prayer! And the Bitch heard you and kept back a life. She went back on her agreement with me. And do you know what? That pisses me off no end. So now, all this will be your fault."
He smiled a disgusting wide grin, yellow teeth and dangling saliva.
Pazu was going to vomit. Or pass out, his head was spinning…
no, none of this is real… nightmare… wake up…
"Off with you now, run off back to your warm pretty little princess. And her warm pretty skin. Enjoy her while you can, she might be among my haul of little fish this year. Her instead of you, eh? Hm, I expect she tastes lovely and sweet..."
His foul breath gusted into Pazu's face and he staggered back, covering his mouth and nose. Pazu turned and ran through the snow and
wake up! wake yourself up
He was through the bushes and splashing along the muddy lane when he tripped and went forward. That awful feeling of falling in your sleep, down and down.
and down. falling
He jerked awake, his nerves and senses jangling.
"Paetsu, Paetsu, what is it? A dream?"
"I. Uh. Sheeta…?"
He was wet through with sweat, shaking.
"You bumped into me, woke me… were you dreaming?"
He sat up.
"Yes. Yes. I must have been. I, uh…"
"Are you alright? Here, drink this."
She offered him a wooden beaker of cool water and he gulped it dry.
a dream. just a dream. my god. I've never had a nightmare like it.
"Sheeta, I'm alright. Just a nightmare."
He lay back down. The hall was quite active, a lot of people were moving about, a group were playing music, some were even dancing. Much livelier than in his dream.
just a dream
"Come back to sleep."
He turned to her and she gazed at him. She lifted her hand and lay it on his face, stroking. He put his arm around her and drew her close.
my god
"Sheeta, hold me."
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
It was morning. People were bustling, clearing up. Suethelhin was over. His Furtuen Caemarth was over. She was by his side, curled up fast asleep. He looked at her. He kissed her hair.
He sat up, went to put his boots on. It was then he noticed his feet. They were caked with mud. Mud right up to his shins. He lifted the sheepskin covering. Dried mud was everywhere. Why were his feet so muddy? He had a vague recollection of waking in the night, waking Sheeta up and having a drink of water. Had he dreamt? A bad dream? There was something there on the edge of his mind but he couldn't recall it. Some sort of dream, he could feel it. Feel it slipping away. He reached for it and it infuriatingly skittered beyond his grasp. He shrugged and got dressed.
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12 - 16 April 2007
(1) Hai a linhi "Yes, a little."
(2) Rhaeahul return, one who has returned
(3) Vienna Teng – Enough To Go By
For author notes about Chapter Forty Six, please see my forum (click on my pen name)