Shardik (18 page)

It was on
the fifth or sixth day after She
ldra had returned from Ortelga with his bow (which she had appar
ently
been able to recover without troubling Bel-ka-Trazet) that Kelderek was standing with Zilthe a
little
inside the forest, about half a mile from the camp. They were in hiding beside a barely-visible track that led to the shore, waiting for whatever animal might appear. It was evening and the sunlight had begun to redden the branches above him. Suddenly he heard at a distance the sound of women’s voices singing. As he listened, the hair rose on his neck. He remembered the wordless songs by the fire. To his mind those had suggested, transmuted indeed yet still familiar, the sound of wind in leaves, of waves on the river, of the pitching of canoes in choppy water and the falling of rain. What he heard now resembled the movement, over centuries, of things that to men seem motionless only because their own lives are short: the movement of trees as they grow and
the
, of stars altering their relative places in the heavens, of mountains slowly ground away through millennia of heat, frost and storm. It was like the building of a city. Great, squared blocks of antiphonal sound were swung and lowered into place, one upon another, until the heart stood far below, gazing up at the clouds marching endlessly across the dark line of the completed rampar
ts. Zilthe
was standing with closed eyes and outstretched palms. Kelderek, though he saw nothing and felt afraid, seemed to himself to have been lifted to some plane on which there was no more need of prayer, since the harmony that is continually present to the mind of God had been made audible to his own prostrate, worshipping soul. He had sunk to his knees and his mouth was twisted like that of a man in agony. Still listening, he heard the singing diminish and then slide quickly into silence, like a diver into deep water.

He rose and began to walk slowly towards the edge of the forest. Yet it was as though he, awake, observed himself moving in a dream. The dream was his own life of time and sensation, of hunger and thirst, which he now watched from a pinnacle of shining silence. He saw his forearm scratched by a spray of trazada and felt, far-off in his flesh, an echo of pain. Slowly, very slowly, he floated down to rejoin his body. They came together as broken reflections resolve on the surface of a pool returning to stillness: and he found himself looking out across the open grass and scratching his arm.

Shardik, the sun sinking behind him, was approaching down
the
slope, now rambling uncertainly here and there, now halting to gaze about at the trees and the distant river. At some distance from him, in a wide half-circle, moved eight or nine of the women, among them Rantzay and the Tuginda. When he hesitated they too paused, swaying in the rhythm of their chant, equidistant one from another, the evening wi
nd sti
rring their hair and the fringes of their tunics. As he went on they moved with him, so that he remained always central and ahead of them. None showed haste or fear. Watching,
Kelderek
was reminded of the instincti
ve, simultaneous turning of a flock of birds in the air, or a shoal of fish in clear water.

It was plain that Shardik was half-bemused, though whether from the continuing effect of the drug or the hypnotic sound of
the
singing the hunter could not tell. The women pivoted about him like wind-tossed branches radiating from the trunk of a tree. Suddenly Kelderek felt a longing to join in their dangerous and beautiful dance, to offer his life to Shardik, to prove himself one among
those
to whom the power of Shardik had been revealed and through whom that power could flow into the world. And with this longing came a conviction - though i
f he were wrong it mattered noth
ing - that Shardik would not harm
him. He stepped out from beneath
the trees and made his way up the slope.

Until he was less than a stone’s throw off, neither the women nor the bear gave any sign of having seen him. Then the bear, which had been moving towards the river rather than
the
forest, stopped, turning its lowered head towards him. The hunter also stopped and stood waiting, one hand raised in greeting. The setting sun was dazzling him, but of this he was unaware. Through the bear’s eyes, he saw himself standing alone on the hillside.

The bear peered uncertainly across the sunlit grass. Then it came towards the solitary figure of the hunter, approaching until it appeared as a dark mass before his light-blinded eyes and he could hear its breathing and the dry, clashing sound of its claws. Its rank smell was all about him, yet he was aware only of
the
smell of himself to Shardik, puzzled and uncertain in his awakening from illness and drugged sleep, afraid because of his own weakness and his unfamiliar surroundings. He sniffed suspiciously at the human creature standing
before him, but remained unstartl
ed by any sudden movement or act of fear on its part. He could hear once more the voices, now on one side of him, now on
the
other, answering each other in layers of sound, bewildering him and confusing his savagery. He went forward again, in the only direction from which
they
did not come, and as he did so the human creature, towards whom he felt no enmity, turned and moved with him towards the twilight and safety of the woods.

At a signal from the Tuginda the women stood still, each in her place, as Shardik, with the hunter walking beside him, entered the outskirts of the forest and disappeared among the trees.

14
Lord Kelderek

That night
Kelderek
slept on the bare ground beside Shardik, with no thought of fire or food, of leopards, snakes or other dangers of darkness. Nor did he think of Bel-ka-Trazet, of the Tuginda or of what might be taking place in the camp. As Melathys had laid the sword’s edge to her neck, so Kelderek lay secure beside the bear. Waking in the night, he saw its back like a roof-ridge against the stars and returned at once into a sleep tranquil and reassured. When morning came, with a grey cold and the chittering of birds in the branches, he opened his eyes in time to catch sight of Shardik wandering away among the bushes. He rose stiffly to his feet and stood shivering in the chill, flexing his limbs and touching his face with his hands as though his wondering spirit had but newly entered this body for the first time. In some other place, he knew, in some other region, invisible yet not remote, insubstantial yet more real than the forest and the river, Shardik and
Kelderek
were one creature,
the
whole and the part, as the scarlet trumpet-flower is part of the rough-leaved, spreading stolon of the trepsis vine. Musing, he made no attempt to follow the bear, but when it was gone turned back to seek his companions.

Almost at once he came upon Rantzay alone in a clearing, cloaked against the cold and leaning upon a staff. As he approached she bent her head, raising her palm to her brow. Her hand shook, but whether from cold or fear he could not tell.

‘Why are you
here?’ he asked with quiet auth
ority.

‘Lord, one of us remained near you all night, for we did not know - we did not know what might befall. Are you leaving Lord Shardik now?’

‘For a while. Tell three of the girls to follow him and try to keep him in sight. One should return at noon
with
news of where he is. Unless he can find it for himself he will need food.’

She touched her forehead again, waited as he walked away and then followed behind him as he returned to the camp. The Tuginda
had gone down to bathe in the river and he ate alone, Neelith bringing him food and drink and serving him in silence on one knee. When at last he saw the Tuginda returning he went to meet her. The girls with her at once fell back, and again he talked with her, alone beside the fall. Now, however, it was the hunter who questioned, the Tuginda paying him close heed and answering him carefully yet without reserve, as a woman answers a man whom she trusts to guide and help her.

‘The Singing, sa
iyctt,’ he began. ‘What is the Singing and what is its purpose?’

‘It is one of
the
old secrets,’ she replied, ‘of
the
days when Lord Shardik dwelt upon the Ledges. It has been preserved from that time to this. Those long ago who offered the Singing showed, by that, that they offered their lives also. This is why no woman on Quiso has ever been ordered to become a singer. Each who determines to attain to it must do so of her own accord: and though we can teach her what we know ourselves, always there is a part which remains a matter of God’s will and her own. The art cannot be sought for self-advancement or to please others, but only to satisfy the singer’s own longing to offer all that she has. So if the will and devotion of the singers were to falter — or so I was taught - the power of the Singing would falter too. Before yesterday evening no woman now alive had ever taken part in offering the Singing to Lord Shardik. I thanked God when I saw that its power had not been lost.’

‘What is the power?’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘But you know what it is, Lord Kelderek Zenzuata. Why do you ask for words, to go on crutches, when you have felt it leaping and burning in your heart?’

‘I know what
the
Singing did to me,
saiyett
. But it was not to me that it was offered last night.’

‘I cannot tell you what takes place in the heart of Lord Shardik. Indeed, I believe now that you know more of
that
than I. But as I learned long ago, it is a way by which we come nearer to him and to God. By worshipping him
thus
we put a narrow, swaying bridge across the ravine that separates his savage nature from our own; and so in time we become able to walk without stumbling through the fire of his presence.’

Kelderek
pondered this for some little time. At length he asked, ‘Can he be controlled, then - driven - by the Singing?’

She shook her head. ‘No - Lord Shardik can never be driven, for he is the Power of God. But the Si
nging, when it is offered devoutl
y, with sincerity and courage, is like that power which we have over weapons. It overcomes for a time
his savagery and as he grows
accustomed to it, so he comes to accept it as the due worship which we offer to him. Nevertheless,
Kelderek
she smiled -
‘Lord
Kelderek, do not think that any man or woman could have done what you did last night, simply because of the Singing. Shardik is always more dangerous than lightning, more uncertain than the Telthearna in the rains. You are his Vessel, or you would now be broken like the leopard.’

‘Saiyett, why did you let the Baron go? He hates Lord Shardik.’

‘Was I to murder him? To overcome his hard heart with a harder? What could have come of that? He is not a wicked man, and God sees all. Did I not hear you yourself begging him for forgiveness as he strode away?’

‘But do you believe
that
he will be content to leave Lord Shardik unharmed?’

‘I believe, as I have always believed, that neither he nor anyone can prevent Lord Shardik from performing that which he has come to perform and imparting that which he has come to impart. But I say yet again - what will ensue we can only await with humility. To devise some purpose of our own and try to make use of Lord Shardik for that end - that would be sacrilege and folly.’

‘So you have taught me, saiyett; but now I
will dare to advise you also. We
should perfect our service of Lord Shardik as a man prepares the weapons with which he knows he will have to fight for his life. Worship yields nothing to the slipshod and half-hearted. I have seen men’s worship which, if it had been a roof they had built, would not have kept out half an hour’s rain; nor had they even the wit to wonder why it left their hearts cold and yielded them neither strength nor comfort. Lord Shardik is in truth the Power of God, but his worshippers will reap only what they sow. How many women have
we
, both here and on Quiso, who are adept in the Singing and able to serve close to Lord Shardik without fear, as they did long ago?’

‘I cannot yet tell - perhaps no more than ten or twelve. As I said, it is more than a matter of skill and brave hearts, for it may turn out that Lord Shardik himself will accept some but not others. You know how a child in
Ortelga
may train to be a dancer and dream of breaking hearts in Bekla; but she grows up unshapely or too tall and there’s an end.’

‘All this we must search out and prove, saiyett - his singers must be sure as an Ortelgan rope in a storm, his hunting-girls observant and tireless. He will wander now; and as he wanders, so we can perfect our work, if only
we
are
given time.’

‘Time?’ she asked, standing still to face him - and he saw once more the shrewd, homely woman with the ladle who had met him below the Ledges. ‘Time, Kelderek?’