Celandine (40 page)

The air grew heavier as evening began to descend, close and still, and as Little Clearing became filled with the coming together of the Various tribespeople, the skies were already dark with the looming of thunderclouds. The Wisp had arisen, ready to go to work, but their night-fishing expeditions had quickly been postponed upon learning of the Ickri arrival. Now they joined uneasily with the Naiad to watch and to listen as the leaders talked.

Two bindle-wraps had been laid out on the grass, close to the ancient beech tree that stood in the clearing, and upon these sat Corben, Pato, and Gwill of the Wisp. Pato and Gwill occupied one oilcloth between them. Corben sat alone on the other. A large wooden dish of baked meats – rook and squirrel – had been placed on the ground in the centre of the trio, so that each might lean forward and take a piece as they talked. Behind Corben sat the Ickri Elders, arranged in a half-circle, and behind them stood the Guard,
then,
at a respectful distance, the bulk of the Ickri tribe. The Naiad and Wisp tribespeople mingled together in a looser arrangement, jostling for position behind Pato and Gwill.

The children of the forest-dwellers sidled around the edge of the crowd, moving a little closer to where the strange outlanders were gathered, marvelling at their dress, and their manner. What fascinated them most of all were those astonishing wings, and especially the wings of the archers. They pointed out to each other the curious designs that decorated the flexing membranes, and they whispered amongst themselves, only to shrink back in silence should one of the archers glance, unsmiling, in their direction.

‘How long it has been,’ said Corben, ‘since our tribes were met. And how long have we, the Ickri, sought our brothers. Now we have returned to our old lands, and we be right glad to see thee thrive so well. Once there were but tribe and tribe here – Ickri and Naiad. Now we see that there be another – the Wisp.’ He looked at Gwill. ‘How so?’

Gwill seemed puzzled. ‘I casn’t tell. But I can tell ’ee this – there be others here yet. Naiad and Wisp, aye, but then there’s they Tinklers and Troggles, too. We be Various now.’

‘Other tribes?’ said Corben. He looked about him. ‘Then should they not be here to meet with us?’

‘I doubts they’d come,’ said Pato. ‘We sees little enough of ’em. They keeps away from we, and we from they.’

Corben reached forward and took a piece of meat
from
the wooden trencher. ‘But these others – they be not of the Naiad? Then my question is not for them. Tell me, Pato, what do ’ee know of the Touchstone – and of the Orbis?’ Corben put the piece of meat in his mouth, and casually began to chew it.

‘The Touchstone? And the . . . what did ’ee say ’twas? Orbis?’ Pato looked at Gwill, and raised his eyebrows. ‘Orbis? No, I never heard tell o’ such a thing. Did thee, Gwill? No.’ He turned back to Corben. ‘We do sometimes say “By the
Stone
!” for a cuss. But I casn’t tell what it do mean, ’xactly. We just says it – “By the Stone”. See, if one o’ our childer were mitherin’ us wi’ their plaguey nonsense . . .’

‘Ye speak of it, yet never heard tell of it.’ Corben’s voice had grown harder. ‘Ye never heard tell of the Touchstone. And ye never heard tell of the Orbis – that which was
stolen
from the Ickri . . .’ He seemed to check himself, and paused to rub his eyes for a moment. One of the Elders leaned towards him and muttered a quiet word or two in his ear. Corben lowered his head and nodded.

‘’Tis an old tale,’ he said, ‘and ’twill wait till the morrow. We be weary yet from many long seasons journeying. But think on it awhile, if thee will. The Touchstone. There may be those among thee who remember tell of it.’

‘
I
remember tell of it.’

Corben slowly raised his head.

Four pale-skinned figures, all dressed in grey, had made their way to the front of the crowd. They carried wooden staves, and though their manner was calm
they
looked somehow more purposeful than the hobble-de-hoys who had parted to give them passage. Corben glanced round at his Guard, then turned to face the newcomers once more.

‘Then welcome,’ he said, and his bearded mouth opened into a smile. He looked from one to the other, as if trying to decide which had spoken. Finally his attention remained upon the eldest. ‘Aye, welcome. Come – sit with us.’

Pato and Gwill had turned to see who was now arrived. They muttered a brief acknowledgement to the cave-dwellers.

‘Micas. Bron . . .’ They shifted a little closer together, in order to make room on the oilcloth.

The newcomers nodded in return. ‘Pato, Gwill. No – we s’ll stand, thank ’ee.’

Corben was now forced to look up as he spoke, and this seemed to annoy him. His smile had disappeared.

‘So, then, friends. The Touchstone. Ye know something of that tale? What be your tribe, then, and how came thee to this place?’

The eldest quietly spoke. ‘I be Micas. A Tinkler. Tinklers and Troggles they do name us now, though once we were all Naiad. Aye, Naiad. We were here when the Ickren were here, and we stayed when they had gone. We stayed as could do naught else – for was the Stone not stolen from us?’

‘
Stolen?
’ Corben’s voice was raised in astonishment.

‘Aye. Stole by the Ickren –
your
kind, maister. And have ’ee now come to return it?’

‘
Return it?
’ Corben began to rise, his face reddening with anger. ‘I am King of the
Ickri
! Aye, the Ickri! Ye think we would journey so far that we might put the Touchstone into the hands of a . . . a . . . what do you call theeself? A
Tinkler
?’

‘Aye. Thee med put it in my hands, if ’tis true that thee have it to give, for ’tis our’n to hold.’

Micas spoke calmly, though Corben’s angry face was now close to his own. The Elders were struggling to their feet, and they attempted to lay restraining hands upon their king – but Corben shrugged them off, cursing, as he rummaged within the folds of his cloak. He drew something forth and thrust it aggressively towards Micas. The crowd shrank back with a gasp – all eyes upon the shining jasper globe that Corben now held out.

‘Take it, then, if ’ee dare! Take it, if ’ee believe ’tis thine!’

Micas paid no attention to the quivering hand that was stretched out before him, but looked steadily into Corben’s narrowed eyes.

‘’Tis true then. The Touchstone be here at last.’

‘Aye!’ Corben snarled. ‘The Stone be here! By its power we have come, and by mine, led to this place from lands so hard they would crack your old bones into dust. A king we have lost upon the way – my own brother, Avlon. And a king’s daughter, also, be lost to us. My own kin have been taken from me, and now you think the Stone shall be taken from me also? No, friend, thee have it widdershins. I am come to take from thee. From thee. Show me the Orbis.’

‘Orbis?’ Micas shrugged his shoulders. ‘Whenst did I speak of such? I but said that I knew of the Stone.’

Corben looked furious. He glared at Micas for a few moments, then spun round to face the Guard – raising the Touchstone high as if about to give an order. The archers immediately tensed, bows at the ready, waiting for the word . . .

But then Corben appeared to change his mind. He lowered his head and his deep breathing could be clearly heard in the surrounding silence. Slowly he brought the Touchstone closer to him, cradling it in both hands as he turned back towards Micas. He kept his eyes upon the surface of the orb as he spoke.

‘’Tis true,’ he said, and his tone had become apologetic. ‘Ye said nothing of the Orbis – and perhaps know nothing of it.’ He sighed. ‘We have been travelling for too long, and I am wearied and out of temper. I mean thee no harm . . . Micas . . . nor any here. By this Stone we be brought together, and by this Stone we shall travel on together – aye, to the very gates of Elysse – once the Orbis be found. So spoke my brother, the King that was, and I must believe him.’ Corben threw back his head, and looked directly at Micas. ‘But I forget – ye know nothing of such matters. I must explain then, perhaps tomorrow, when we be rested, and in better humour. Then all shall truly learn why we are come, and what it is we seek, and what great power we bring thee.’

Corben glanced upwards at the black thunderclouds rolling in from the west, and then looked about
the
clearing. ‘For this night we must ask use of your shelters. Not all – a half share of these will serve. Come the morrow we will begin upon shelters of our own. Aye, the morrow shall be a day of changes.’

It was very nearly dark by the time Micas and the others returned to the cave. None had ever heard Micas’s voice sound so loud or so angry.

‘Come! Come all! Leave off what ’ee be about, and gather to me!’

But as the hurrying figures of the cave-dwellers began to emerge from the tunnels, and the little oil-lamps threw dancing shadows about the walls of the entrance cavern, Micas’s angry scowl disappeared. His bushy grey eyebrows shot up in astonishment. Fully half of those now before him had apparently lost their hair.

‘Wha’ist this? What have ’ee done to theeselves?’

Celandine stepped from her side-chamber, and stood amongst the gathering.

‘I’ve given them a haircut,’ she said. ‘They watched me do mine, and then they wanted the same.’

Micas seemed unable to speak. He ran his fingers through his own thick side locks, and looked about him in bewilderment.

‘
Elina?
’ The sight of his wife’s head – now almost as bald as his own – freed his tongue once more. ‘Thee also?’

‘I were the first,’ said Elina, with some pride. ‘What say thee?’ She turned once around, so that Micas could benefit from the full effect.

‘Om,’ said Micas. He was clearly shocked, but
managed
to mumble, ‘’Tis . . . comely. ’Tis . . . om . . . most pleasing.’ He shot a desperate glance at Celandine, but her own transformed appearance was also too much for him. He rubbed his grey-stubbled chin and stared at the ground for a few moments – perhaps the safest option.

The muscular Bron, who stood beside Micas, was less diplomatic. ‘We’m fallen in wi’ a gaggle o’ coots!’ he said, and Garlan laughed. ‘Aye. Or a clutch o’ goosey eggs.’

But Micas was looking serious again now, and some of his anger had returned.

‘Hold, Bron. And all of ’ee. We’ve more than this to think on.’

He raised his head. ‘’Tis as we supposed,’ he said. ‘The Ickren be here, and here they means to stay.’

‘Do they really have wings?’ said Celandine.

Micas frowned.

‘Maid, when I speken, thee do not. Thank ’ee. Aye, they have wings, and each a pair o’ faces to match. A face that do smile, and a face that do snarl – and neither would ’ee trust. They come bearing the Touchstone with them. I have seen it, and Bron, and Tammas here, and Garlan have seen it also. They come bearing the Touchstone, but they seek the Orbis. The Orbis, mark ’ee. And they s’ll take it from us if’n they can.’

There was silence at this.

Micas said, ‘So here we be.’ He looked at his companions. ‘Bron, what say thee?’

Bron folded his arms and threw back his broad
shoulders.
‘If they’m to take the Orbis, then first they’m to find it. And how should ’em do that, when none but Micas knows where it be hid? Micas alone do carry the secret about him – to be passed to such of his choosing when his time be near. And this shall be our guard. Th’ Ickren will never know where to seek for’t.’

‘I be wi’ Bron,’ said Tammas, though he hadn’t been asked. ‘They’ll get naught from we. Let ’em huff and puff.’

‘They may do more’n huff and puff,’ said Micas. ‘As we do already find.’ He looked up at Celandine. ‘They’d put a dart through any as crossed their way, be ’em childer or no. Aye, and we all have childer. Garlan, what from thee, as have also seen ’em?’

‘They casn’t kill us all,’ said Garlan, ‘for we be too many. Tribes and tribes we be. And mark ’ee; they’ve childer of their own. ’Twill come to parley, not to blood. We’ve naught to fear – and naught to tell.’

‘Naught to fear?’ said Micas. ‘Then think on this; how did they find’n this place after so long, and from so far? The Touchstone did lead them here, or so say their
king
. And if the Stone have such a power as to bring ’em to these woods, then might it not bring ’em a little further yet – to the Orbis itself? Tonight the Ickren be weary and have already gone to their rest. Come the morrow, they would parley some more. We might then learn that the Stone have the power to find the Orbis, wherever it be hidden. We might learn that the Orbis cans’t
not
be hidden from the Stone, and that if we do not willingly give it, then there will be blood. Aye, there will be blood – for hark ’ee; the
Ickren
do reckon the Orbis to be their’n to hold, as sure as we do reckon the Stone to be our’n.’

There were murmurings of concern over this, and Micas had to raise his hands to still the crowd.

‘We have this to choose,’ said Micas. He waited for silence to descend once more. Then he lowered his hands, and turned them palm upwards. ‘With this hand we med wait, and parley, and see if the Ickren shall find the Orbis and take it from us. Or with this hand, we med reach out and take the Stone from the Ickren. Aye. The Ickren must take from us, or we from they. Which hand shall it be – and which hand shall become the bloodier?’

The voices of the cave-dwellers rose once again, each with their own opinion, and this time Micas left them to their discussions. He beckoned to Celandine.

‘Come, maid. Walk with me a step. We s’ll see no more of the Ickren this eve, and ’tis safe to be abroad for a little. I must talk with ’ee.’

The night air was very humid, and by the time Celandine had followed Micas up the steep pathway to the high clearings, she felt sticky with perspiration. They stood beneath a hawthorn tree and looked out over the dark expanse before them. On the opposite side of the Great Clearing the far tree-line was just visible, a ragged horizon against a rumbling sky, and Celandine found herself thinking of the war. It was said that the terrible big guns could be heard clear across the English Channel. She wondered if this was how they sounded, a distant boom of thunder that
threatened
to roll ever closer – something that would surely happen, if it weren’t for Freddie and those like him. Thousands like Freddie . . .