Tond continues in Book One, Chapter 5: nightmares, discussions, and lessons in Tondish linguistics.

 The "Tond" saga continues. Rolan has been stung by a grosk (unnamed at first) and now the whole adventure has been set in motion.

Tond, Book One: The Sons of Tlaen Ras-Erkéltis

Chapter 5

A Riddle Solved

 

Zn lúmu dáestu zn, íilan ter arn ro estráhas ke hánd ni wártas tóa.

“Both light and darkness often lurk where they are not expected.”

Fyorian proverb

  

Council Town in South Rohandal, third month, Fyorian year 614

 Rolan lay in a fevered nightmare, suspended in a void with endless writhing seas of serpents below him and an unnamable nothingness yawning above him. From time to time some of the serpents broke off from the rest and assailed him, their teeth biting into his flesh like so many knives and needles, and he tried to bat then away with his arms and legs, but there was pain and stiffness in his limbs and he could barely move. A light appeared, shaped like a four-pointed star, shimmering neither in the void nor in the sea of serpents. It was a light which he knew could save him from this horror, and he struggled and tumbled towards it, but it was always just beyond his reach.

The darkness continued. For endless hours the darkness continued, and there were shadows there too, vague unknowable shadows like the creature that had stung him, and other creatures he could not name, and some horrors he could not imagine. The sea of serpents swelled and engulfed him, and he saw that it had no bottom; then it receded and left him hanging in the infinite void.

The darkness continued. Faces from his childhood appeared, twisted and distorted from fear and rage and disease, and they disappeared into the void. He fought against the serpents again. Darknesses welled up from within him and burst out into view, ugly things with no face and no name, and they too disappeared into nothingness. And all around there was that dreadful emptiness. All was dark, all was diseased, all was empty.

The Light appeared again. He was able to turn to it this time.

“What — Who are you?” he croaked through the dryness of his mouth.

There was no audible response, but clearly the light was trying to tell him something. The name “Shar” formed in his mind. He faced it squarely now, and it winked out.

Terror raced through him. The darkness continued.

No, the light was not entirely gone. There was still something there, glowing slightly in the half-reality, suspended before him. It was vague and unfocused, but he found that by looking at it, it would appear a little, just a little, brighter. And now it was again in the shape of the four-pointed star. It had been infinitely remote, wholly other, beyond both the sea of serpents and the void, but now it was very near to him. He reached for it. It swelled, and there was a music in it, a sparkling shimmer of sound. The serpents retreated; there was a little luminosity in the void above him. And he understood. He reached for the light again, and it swelled more, and then engulfed him; he heard the sweet music louder than before yet still infinitely remote, and then it was gone.

He tumbled in the void again, but now it was not void. He felt comfort, and the sea of serpents was gone.

 

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was on a mattress in a room illuminated by two glowballs, but otherwise undecorated. On a chair next to him sat Keldar. The old loremaster turned and looked at him.

“You are lucky to be alive, Rolan.”

Rolan groaned. He felt pus in his throat, and dizziness overwhelmed him, and he lay down again. There were sharp pains in his arm and shoulder, and horrible aches in his back.

“Don’t try to speak, Rolan,” Keldar said. “You will need to rest another week before you can talk well. The grosk nearly killed you.” He paused, then, “It placed some deep venom in you too, perhaps beyond the healing powers of the ahíinor, but maybe you can recover from that. It isn’t doing any harm at the moment.”

“H-h-h-how... long...?’

“You’ve been in a fever for three days.”

Rolan swallowed, felt the dryness in his throat. “Ar-r-r-nul...”

Keldar glared at him. “Rolan, there is a reason that you were not taught the ren-yam mechanas yet. The Eye is dangerous, it is the power of Kullándu; and it can explode like that. And it turns out that Eilann was at least partly right; there is something evil in Borrogg. Now, because of your carelessness, Eilann is dead. And Arnul is gone, Rolan. I don’t know where. He disappeared with the grosk.”

The void returned to Rolan. Surely Keldar’s words were part of the nightmare; he would awaken again... Then he cried. Arnul was gone. His brother was gone. And Eilann was certainly dead. And all because he had listened to that Mystery-Challenge! He sobbed, though the pain in his back and lungs was unbearable.

Then he sat up. “Where is Arnul!? We have to find my brother...!” and he collapsed in a fit of agonizing bloody coughs. He sobbed again.

“Easy, easy...” muttered Keldar.

The door swung open. Shillayne entered, carrying a cloth and a bowl of water. She smiled at Rolan, and came over to wipe his forehead. “How do you feel?” she asked, though the answer was obvious.

“He’s going to be all right,” said Keldar, “For now.”

“Mommy’s made some of the healing wine that you prescribed,” Shillayne said.

“Good. Bring it in. He can drink it now that he’s awake.”

 

The next week passed like a dark dream for Rolan. During the day he was awake and feeling the unbearable pain, both of his body (though that was gradually lessening) and the anguish that he knew he had caused something unspeakable to happen to his brother. During the night he sank back into his fevered dreams of serpents and voids, only to fade into other nightmares of the creature that had attacked him and of Arnul, helpless and defenseless, being dragged away into... into something, and he awoke screaming. But Keldar and Shillayne were always there with him, tending him, and bringing him the healing wine. Its flavor changed over the days from bitter to wholesome and sweet.

 

There came a time when he felt that he was definitely better. He could sit up without dizziness, and the pains were gone enough for him to stand up and walk around. He could speak without coughing. One morning, probably the eighth day since he had first awakened, Keldar came in and threw open the curtains, letting in the glorious sunlight, and Shillayne brought in a real meal of chicken and bread and boiled vegetables (Keldar told him to drink the water they had been boiled in too), served with the healing-wine. He ate it, carefully at first, and then with gusto; it was delicious. He sat back and sighed.

“Welcome back,” said Shillayne, and hugged him.

 

It was then that Keldar invited him to come down to the front room of the inn (they were still in the inn owned by Shillayne’s parents) to talk with him and another ahíinor. It was time for some answers.

He rose carefully, put on his ahíinor robe, and headed down the stairs, carefully gripping the railing lest dizziness return. But he seemed steady for the moment. Keldar and the other loremaster were sitting at one of the tables; there was an empty chair next to Keldar. He pulled it out (feeling a twinge of pain in his am and shoulder again) and sat down. Their eyes were all on him, and there was nobody else in the room. The other tables were all empty, though there were candles (unlit, it was daytime) on some of them.

Keldar introduced them. The other’s name was Hanroy. He was the father of the boy who had told Arnul about the room with the mechanas upstairs.

Rolan looked embarrassed. “I need to repay you for the mechanas I crushed...”

Honroy stared at him. “Mechanas are priceless. They are left over from the Ancients. They cannot be replaced. But you didn’t ruin them.”

“It was the grosk that ruined them,” Keldar began, “I believe Rolan has heard me use the word ‘grosk’ before.”

Rolan ran the word through his mind. Grosk. Fyorian grásku (the final U was barely sounded). It meant “deformity”.

Keldar continued. “It was not a gruntagkshk, a gruntag, this much I can be certain. Nobody has ever seen a gruntag up close except in the Fiery Eye, of course, but they don’t seem to attack with such ferocity. We’ve seen them kill things like rabbits and birds, there in Borrogg... Anyway, a grosk is a much more fearsome creature, both because of its attack, and because of what it means. Grosks are associated with the monster Gashug-Tairánda. The Shapeshifter. What this means, of course, is that Eilann was probably right, and that monster is still alive, and probably hiding somewhere in Borrogg. Another thing, besides that the grosk obviously knew when it was being observed, is that it was able to jump right through the Eye itself. If Eilann and I hadn’t been there to keep it at bay, it could have come down here; and nobody here was armed.”

Rolan interrupted. “What happened after I blacked out?”

Keldar answered. “It picked up Arnul, I think you saw that. Then it attacked me, but I stabbed it. Then it turned on Eilann; and he didn’t have a chance. Every time he tried to stab it, it held Arnul in the way, so he couldn’t. It picked him up in its jaws and it... it...” he paled. “It killed him. I was hitting it from behind, but it was too late. It... it bit him in half. Then it turned on me again, but I couldn’t stab it again because it was still holding Arnul as a shield. It came down to bite me in the same way, but I managed to stab it in the back of the throat as it lunged. It screamed, what a horrible sound, and everyone down here heard it, I’m sure. Then it just vanished. It imploded, if that makes any sense. It shrunk into a point in less than a second, and then that point disappeared from view. Not even with a Finding Crystal could I find it. It was gone, and it took Arnul with it.”

“So where is it now?”

“One would have to assume it’s back in Borrogg, though we can’t be certain. We, the two of us here, tried once more to see it with the Eye, but we found nothing in Borrogg except two gruntags. The land is devoid of life again.”

“So why don’t we go there ourselves and look around? We can’t leave Arnul in its clutches like that...!”

“Of course we can’t. Or you can’t; it seems like you’re the one that has to bear the responsibility for this disaster.”

Rolan stood up, rapped his fist on the table. “Now look! I admit I made a mistake! I used the Eye when I didn’t know how! And I suffered for it! But so did Arnul! And we don’t know what happened to him, or what is still happening to him! And if I don’t know how to use the lore-power and so on, then it seems to me that some help would be what I need...!”

“Of course,” said Keldar, “I didn’t say that we wouldn’t help. But at the moment I don’t even know if we can. We can’t go into Borrogg; that’s a several month’s journey from here, and if the monster Gashug-Tairánda is there, as we can assume, then we would all die in any attempt to rescue Arnul, assuming we could even find him.”

Rolan glared at him. Keldar did not look back; Rolan saw that the old loremaster’s face wore an expression not of hopelessness but of absolute terror. He had never looked so frightened.

“The Shapeshifter is a foe beyond the power of all the ahíinor combined,” stated Hanroy.

Rolan sat down, shaken. “So what can we... what can I do?” he asked.

There was a long silence. Rolan felt the aches in his back begin to return.

“We must discuss what Eilann said,” said Keldar at last, “particularly in light of this.” From beneath the table he produced a knife, held it up, and let it fall with a clatter on the table top. Rolan almost cried out. The knife was almost like the one that Arnul had used to make the Eye; it was short and almost sawed-off looking, but it was painted bright red.

Hanroy held out his four-pointed star mechana as if to ward off the evil of the knife, and he edged away in his chair.

“This is an evil mechana,” said Keldar to Rolan. “We thought that all of these were destroyed, but Eilann had one. It is a Blade of Azugh.”

Rolan sat forward, looked at it closely with horrid fascination, though he couldn’t bring himself to touch it. “Isn’t it a blade for making the Fiery Eye?” he asked at last.

“In a way,” said Keldar. “The exact meaning of Azugh has been forgotten, though we can assume that it is not good because of the ‘red’ color of the word.” (He was referring to the sound symbolism in Fyorian poetry.) “Call it a sister mechana. It does make a flame which shows scenes. But the difference is that the Eye shows you things which are real. It shows you what is happening, as it happens. But this,” he held the red knife up in his hand, turned it around in the light, “This shows scenes of what its maker wants you to see. …That is, not in itself, evil, of course. The illusion stones do that, as at your initiation ceremony. The Master of Light had to plan all the illusions beforehand, all the suspended fires and underground water and music and all that, in detail, and then show it at the ceremony. All of it, except for the Circle of Shining at the end, was done with illusion stones. And I might add, it was one of the best illusion-stone shows I’ve ever seen.” He paused, dropping the knife on the table again. “But this, this Blade of Azugh, was used for a different reason. Just before the Devastation, almost everybody had one or two of these. They made lore-fire that people would sit around and watch. And the maker of the scenes made everybody see the same thing. There came to be many makers of scenes, and they all told stories which were very captivating. Again, that is not evil in itself; but in the end nobody cared for other stories any more, only the stories that unfolded in the fire were important. Eventually the makers of the scenes began to control people; probably not intentionally, at first, because they were simply interested in providing fun. But still they began to tell everybody what to see, what to think, even how to think it. Later there was the Devastation, and all of these blades were destroyed, or so we thought.”

“But surely the makers of the scenes died then too!” said Rolan.

“Of course. So now these blades act on their own, or others can control them if they have the proper mechanas. The four-pointed stars cannot control them,” he said to Hanroy. “But something, perhaps the monster Gashug-Tairánda, could control this when Eilann was looking at it. Perhaps it was with this, not the Eye, that he saw the dark tower. Whatever happened, I think it was intended that Eilann get someone, preferably someone young and inexperienced, to look at Borrogg with the Eye. And it was not intended by Eilann, or any other ahíinor. Something evil intended it; something that could act through this knife mechana.”

“You’re saying that Gashug-Tairánda intended it,” stated Rolan.

Keldar’s expression was of deep distress. “Yes, that is what I’m saying.”

At this point, Honroy leaned foreward. “I spoke to Eilann. It was the day before the party. The day before he was killed. He was wild that day. His speech was wild. I could barely understand him. He was saying something about, he was going to tell somebody else about what he’d seen. He needed to tell someone young. Someone young would believe him. He knew somebody like that would be at the party.”

“A guess, because of Shillayne’s age, or do you think the knife mechana told him?” asked Keldar.

“Who knows? Anyway he knew who would be here. But he had something else to say too. I couldn’t really understand him. When he said it, he grabbed my robe and pulled me down to his face. He whispered something like, ‘Listen, Honroy. I have learned something. The Watcher in the Eye does not want me to know. The Watcher in the Eye does not want any of the loremasters of Rohándal to know. But I must tell someone. Listen. Grosks are again walking the world of Tond. There is one man who knows how to tame them. He lives in the Karjan Imperium. He alone is the one to turn to.’ But Eilann did not say the name of this man. He only told me a riddle.”

“The ‘Watcher in the Eye’ would be Gashug-Tairánda, assumedly,” said Keldar, “But a man who lives in the Imperium? This is news to me.”

“Tens of thousands of men who live in the Karjan Imperium,” said Honroy. “Karjans, mostly. And tens of thousands of women, and children too. Karjans, mostly. So how could we find one person? Or does he mean Shar? Some say he still lives, somewhere in the Imperium.”

“Shar doesn’t live in the Imperium,” Keldar said flatly. “This is probably another story from his Blade of Azugh. What else did Eilann say? What was the riddle?”

“Well, it was something about, let’s see... Something like ‘In a tower, where the sunrise meets the Sherványa Lands, there you will find four helping hands’. He wouldn’t say it more plainly. The Watcher in the Eye would kill him if he said it more plainly.”

“The Watcher in the Eye did kill him,” said Keldar.

“If he said something about grosks, why didn’t you tell anybody before?” asked Rolan.

“You saw him yourself. He was a madman. He was always grabbing people’s robes and pulling them down to his face. So I just ignored everything he said. We all ignored everything he said.”

Keldar was drawing little marks on the surface of the table with one point of a four-pointed star amulet. Green, slightly luminous letters appeared. They were fairly clear; not Fyorian lettering, but something else, a strange, squiggly, complicated kind of glyphs. Rolan had seen such writing before, little bits of it, recorded in some of the old loremasters’ thick tomes, proceeding vertically down the page in columns. “Karjannic writing,” he stated.

 

Keldar looked up, as if surprised. “My, you would make a good learner of foreign tongues. I always knew that you sere interested in foreign things. ...Yes, this is Karjannic writing. One of a multitude of styles of Karjannic writing. I learned a little of it when I was younger. This says Hwatsats Hondrakch, that is, the ‘Tower of the Sun Approaching’, which I might call the Tower of Dawn or the Tower of Sunrise. It’s the easternmost of the Karjan towers, except for T’wadzadz, the ruined Tower of Kings.”

“Hmmm. Tower of Sunrise. Is it anywhere near the Sherványa Lands?” asked Honroy.

“Well, no, it’s on the north bank of the River Cheihar, near Great Lake Tsenwakh. It’s near Ond, actually,” Keldar replied. Then he quietly said “smooth out” to his four-pointed star, and the green letters on the table grew unclear and then vanished.

Rolan’s thoughts were wandering. Sometime, a very long time ago, he had heard something about a Sherványa something, concerning the Karjan Imperium. Not Sherványa cherry-wine. Not Sherványa bread, though that was famous. Not Sherványa paper, though that was also famous, made from a grain rather than wood. No, it was something else. No, it wasn’t a thing, it was a person. Definitely. Someone had mentioned to him something about...

He stood up. “Call Shillayne’s father in here.”

The others looked at him blankly. Keldar said, “Rolan, this is a most unusual request. This is a secret meeting of ahíinor...”

“Well it’s not secret anymore, with grosks jumping out of the Eye and so on. And I don’t think it should stay secret anyway. Get him in here.”

“...Well, if you insist,” said Keldar, and he stood up and went out of the room. Rolan said nothing to Honroy, and waved him off when he tried to speak, until Keldar returned with the plump innkeeper in tow.

“What is this about?” flustered the fat man. “I have customers to help, and my wife would clobber me if she found me talking to you people at a time like this...”

“Have a seat. You can have mine,” said Rolan, standing. “Several years ago you mentioned that you had been to the Imperium. We were playing ten-ball, me and Shillayne and you, and, and... Arnul. You wanted to give away that statue. Arnul asked something about the Karjan warriors drinking blood. You said it was true, or used to be. Then you said it wasn’t true anymore. But I don’t remember why it was that you said it wasn’t true anymore.”

The innkeeper remained standing. “I don’t remember the conversation, at least not specifically. But I know the answer anyway. There was some kind of a revolution in the Imperium or something. There is a half-Sherványa hrakezh queen ruling now, from one of their towers...Now may I go...?”

Rolan cut him off. “What tower? Have a seat. Now what tower?”

“I don’t know. There are a six towers there, and a hrakezh in each one.”

Hanroy leaned forward. “Rolan, he didn’t have to explain that. Her name is Tngp’hl Yathknchul — "

“— Those Karjannic names!” muttered the innkeeper.

Keldar smiled. “Karjannic names… But maybe not all that difficult. It means ‘Beautiful Stars, Daughter of Shimmering River’. But all Karjans have two names. Her other name is Ai-Leena, which also means ‘Beautiful Stars’; in Sherványa. That name shows her Sherványa blood. …She rules in the Tower of Dawn. She’s been there for about fifteen years; daughter of Otarnigraesh and Yathkáani of the Royal Family of Ond. She banned the blood-drinking.”

“Well that’s the answer,” said Honroy. “Ai-Leena, half-Sherványa, in the Tower of Sunrise. The Sunrise meets the Sherványa Lands. At least that’s part of the answer. Now what did Eilann mean by ‘four helping’...”

“Excuse me, sirs. But I really must get back to my customers,” the innkeeper interrupted. He was bouncing up and down on his feet. “After what has happened several times now when I’ve been playing ten-ball and all, and twice I’ve burnt the bread, and several other times somebody’s gotten drunk and I haven’t been paying attention... I really need to go. Especially if...”

“Yes, you may leave,” Keldar said, rolling his eyes. The innkeeper was gone, half-bounding, half rolling, before he heard the word ‘leave’. The door slammed behind him.

Keldar let out a laugh. “He’s certainly gotten more interested in his customers recently. It looks like his wife has finally gotten to him, though of course that won’t change her much...”

“Zhulayne doesn’t need to change. She keeps him in line,” said Honroy.

Rolan was getting impatient. He sat back down; the innkeeper had never taken his seat anyway. “Only part of the riddle has been answered,” he said to Honroy. “And you just asked what was meant by ‘four helping hands’...”

Keldar chuckled. “Well we can assume he Eilann didn’t mean one person with four hands or four half-people or four dismembered hands. Obviously he meant four people, though actually I was never really sure with him...”

“One of them is probably Ai-Leena herself,” said Honroy. “Actually I was going that way anyway. Maybe I should give her a visit.  My family and I were going south to the Emb Lands. The Imperium is between. The road goes right by the City of the Tower of Dawn.”

“...So you just go and bong on her door-gong...?” asked Keldar.

“Yes. I don’t know her personally, of course. But she does keep company with ahíinor. An ahíinor put her on the throne.”

Keldar glared at Hanroy, his eyes abruptly narrowed and his mouth twisted with such ferocity that Rolan winced. “That’s a lie. Do you have a Blade of Azugh too? The ahíinor do not care who sits on what throne.”

Hanroy glared back, the first expression Rolan had seen on his face since Keldar had shown the blade. “The loremasters do care who rules where. If it makes matters easier for us, we care. She banned the raids that the Karjan tsajuk warriors had been making. That makes it easier for us. So one of us put her on the throne. It is history. Maybe it is a secret history. But maybe it is time to tell it.”

Keldar met his glare. They remained like that, their eyes locked, for nearly a minute. Then Keldar lowered his eyes to the table, and etched another bit of green Karjannic lettering (which immediately vanished again; Rolan had no chance to ask what it might have meant). Hanroy continued to stare at him.

At last Keldar sighed, and spoke. “Yes, it is true. One of us did put Ai-Leena on the throne of the Tower of Sunrise. But that history is supposed to be secret; her revolution was not sanctioned by the Master of Light. The ahíinor who helped her were renegades; they did not act out of the official policy of the Guardians of Tond.”

Hanroy did not lower his eyes. “Official policy is just that. Gashug-Tairánda is rising again. We may have to bend official policy. If we don’t, we might not be able to guard Tond.”

Keldar glanced up again briefly, met Hanroy’s stare. Rolan looked between the two tense faces; Keldar was squinting and his forehead deeply wrinkled; Hanroy was staring but there was no aggression in his dark eyes. There was only fear, and a certain pleading. Rolan knew that talk of abandoning the usual customs of the ahíinor could mean getting reported to the Master of Light for some kind of dreadful punishment. The stakes were high for such disobedience, with the possibility of unleashing another Devastation...

Keldar looked away again. “You are right,” he said at last, sighing again. “We didn’t listen to Eilann because of our official policy, and now things are very much worse than they might have been. So we might have to bend our rules.” He paused, then asked, “...So what of Ai-Leena?”

Hanroy’s relief was obvious. He answered quickly, “I propose this. I take Rolan with me when we go south. We stop at the City of the Tower of Dawn. We insist to speak to Ai-Leena.”

“Hmmm. It sounds both difficult and dangerous. Don’t forget we’re talking about trying to gain audience with a Karjan queen…” His explanation became more matter-of-fact, informing Rolan as well about the Imperium. “The Karjan royalty, or hrakezh as they call them, are very difficult to speak to, and they are very quick to anger. And the entire Imperium is known for the ‘iron fist’ of the hrakezh and the tsajuk warlords. Travelling there is probably safe enough, but trying to speak to someone higher up... Like I said, it sounds dangerous. Is it possible to reach Ai-Leena with the Eye? She does keep company with ahíinor...”

“It’s not possible. She wouldn’t acknowledge anyone in the Eye. She’s trying to keep it secret, that she knows any ahíinor. I don’t even know who her ahíinor friends are. If she still has them.”

Rolan spoke up. “The Imperium is in the south, and any hope of rescuing Arnul would mean that we would have to go north, to Borrogg. So it sounds stupid even if it were safe. But... We are talking about Ai-Leena because of a riddle that Eilann gave us.  And all of this is because Arnul and I, and the rest of you, ignored Eilann before. It seems dangerous to ignore him, less dangerous than going to the Imperium. He was probably right on this also. I don’t know who the other three ‘helping hands’ are, but perhaps we should try to find out.” He paused, looked up at Hanroy, and their eyes met. Then he glanced back at Keldar. “I am prepared to follow Hanroy into the Imperium to talk to this Ai-Leena, if it will give me any hope in rescuing my brother from... from that.”  His speech trailed off; dark memories were returning to his mind. His back began to ache. But at the same time he knew that he had to find Arnul at any cost, and whatever dangers lay in the Imperium could not be as bad as grosks.

The two older loremasters were staring at him, their eyes showing a blend of unreadable emotions. There was a long silence. At last Keldar spoke, “You are very brave, Rolan son of Tlaen Ras-Erkéltis.” There was pride in his voice. “I was wise to have chosen you to be an apprentice loremaster. But still you are not fully healed, and the grosk put some venom deep within you that I cannot remove, nor do I know what evil it may bring. To go on a journey now would not be wise. You can’t leave with Hanroy; he plans to leave here tomorrow...”

“Then I will leave here tomorrow too. The longer we wait, the worse things are that can happen to Arnul, and maybe to the rest of us. We don’t know what’s really happening in Borrogg. And if all of this is... is...” He stuttered. A dizziness was beginning to overtake him; and his sight grew wobbly. The ache in his back became a sharp stabbing pain. He stood. Flashing lights appeared in front of his eyes, and then he fell into blackness. He collapsed back into his seat, and slumped onto the table.

Keldar said to Honroy, “We’ve kept him up too long on the first day. Go get some of the healing wine from Shillayne, and I’ll take him back upstairs.”

 

The next day Rolan awoke at noon; there was a memory in his mind of more nightmares of voids and serpents but now sunlight was streaming in the open window and birds were singing outside. He sat up, trying to reconstruct the previous day in his mind. He could only recall disconnected fragments, like bits of a dream. But he knew that some decision, some dreadful decision had been made, some way to undo the evil that he had brought by the Mystery Challenge...

The door opened, and Shillayne walked in with a tray of food and a curious cloth bag draped over her shoulder. Honroy followed a second later; Shillayne motioned for him to sit on a chair by the door for a moment. He flopped onto the chair and folded his arms across his chest. Shillayne went over to Rolan.

“Good morning, you’re awake,” she said to him, ignoring Honroy’s presence. “Actually, I should say good afternoon. Keldar told me that you were going to leave on some kind of journey today.” And Rolan remembered. “I brought you something,” Shillayne continued, “Mommy cooked this; chicken in sánatar sauce, your favorite. I asked her to make it today; I don’t think they’ll have it in the Imperium. It is a Fyorian dish, after all. Oh don’t look so surprised that I know you’re going to the Karjan Imperium; Hanroy is going south with his family and the Imperium is on the way and of course you have to see Ai-Leena to see what you can do about Arnul. I didn’t hear the last part of your meeting because mommy asked me to go do some errands; but I can use my mind.”

“You were eavesdroppng!” Rolan said.

“Well of course. With grosks and all that, and all of it involving you and I hadn’t seen you in seven years...  I had to find out a little of what was going on. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that some ahíinor have disobeyed their leader but putting a Karjan queen on the throne... Here, have some of this; it’ll make you feel better.” She set the tray down beside him. “And here, something I think you should have, at least for now.” She opened the bag and pulled out the statue of the Karjan warrior that Arnul had admired. “Give this to Arnul when you find him. Oh don’t worry, I didn’t steal it from daddy; I just beat him at ten-ball; twice actually. Once was for this. The other time was for, this...”

From somewhere she produced a small golden chain which she quickly (and very nimbly) tied around Rolan’s wrist before he could even pull away. “Nice, isn’t it? Karjan craftwork. The metalsmith made two of them; I’ve got the other one.” She showed him another small chain around her wrist. “To remember this place by; and to remember me by,” she said. “And to hope you’ll get back safely. Oh I’m talking too fast and talking too much, I’m almost sounding like mommy...”

Rolan smiled at her. “I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“It’s a secret.”

She bent down to his ear to hear his secret. He didn’t say anything but kissed her on the cheek.         She giggled and pulled away, then turned and looked at him with a smile. “Not now! I’m not finished yet. You haven’t eaten any of the chicken anyway, and mommy cooked it just for you. Now, here, I have something else for you, which I didn’t win from daddy. Actually I’ve got two things for you. The first is mine, I don’t think I’ll need it now. I got it when I went to the Imperium several years ago. Actually daddy bought it for me. But now I’ll give it to you.  Here, take a look.”

She pulled something else out of the bag. An old weathered book, looking like one of Keldar’s tomes, although quite a bit smaller and lighter. She handed it to Rolan. He gazed at her for a moment longer, watching the sunlight reflect in her dark eyes, then he looked at the book. It wasn’t quite what he had expected (though he realized that he wasn’t sure what he really had expected), but it certainly would be useful in the Imperium. It was also one of the rare printed books, made with that printing mechana of which the ahíinor of South Rohándal were so proud.

 

FYORIAN/KARJANNIC DICTIONARY

by Kelvar Dar-Túnilaen, Fyorian ahíinor of Séyar Éyuhand in West Rolandal, and Ghrentsuk, Karjan Hutark-scholar of Kfastsats Pfrentukch (Tower of the Rising Moon)

 

He opened it and selected a page at random.

 

name: 1.) a name, hnuhlka. pl.: nuhlka.

2.) to name something, give something a name, ksanuhla (+endings).

3.) to mention something, hnuhraka.

4.) My name is _____, (ksachhnuhhla) cho-_____.

5.) What is his/her name? Akjohnuhlka?

6.) What is your name? Akshohnuhlka?

narrow: shregki (+endings).

nasty (=harmful, ugly, or evil): pfargp’shki (+endings).

nation: 1.) country, karchaennok. pl.: garchaennok.

2.) race of people, ksatsantsekk. pl.:gzatsantsekk.

(root words karchaen [see Karjan], ksatsan, person)

national: knkarchaennoki.

 

He tried to pronounce a few of the words. “Hmmm,” he commented. “The Karjans must need to crouch under umbrellas when they talk to each other. …and what do they mean about ‘endings’?”

Shillayne giggled. “That could be true about the umbrellas. But they say our language is week and unexpressive because it doesn’t have enough hard consonant sounds. I guess it all depends what language you speak to begin with. …The ‘endings’ are, I think, the bits of words they put on the end to make one word into an entire sentence. In a bigger dictionary there’d be a list of them at the back, but this one’s probably too small. We have a bigger one you can take a look at before you leave, if you’d like. Anyway I have something else for you too. Remember I said that I had two things. Actually it’s something to tell you, Rol-yan. It’s a secret.”

“Well, tell me,” he said, as his eyebrows shot up at the playfully different, ‘blue-green’ coloring of his name (changing the sound for pleasantness, as in Fyorian poetry).

She bent down again to whisper in his ear, but she didn’t say anything. She just kissed him.

He laughed and kissed her back.

And then he realised that the chicken dish was probably getting cold.

 

Honroy cleared his throat and gesticulated wildly to get their attention. Shillayne laughed again.

“We need to talk about the journey,” said Honroy, “The dictionary is useful. The statue might be a little much to carry. But we're not going on foot. I bought two burros from the stables here in town. I think they will be able to cross the desert if we take enough water for them. The way through the desert is short when going south.”

“Wouldn't horses be faster?” asked Rolan.

“No, you can only use horses on the shortest roads in Rohándal. The desert can be very harsh. Actually I've heard that in the Emb Lands they have another animal for the desert. It's called a camel. But here, we’ll have to use burros. We can trade them for horses later. Also, we're leaving tomorrow morning, not today. It's too late in the day already. And Keldar convinced me that you're not well enough to leave now. One more night's sleep will be better.”

Rolan stared at him. “One more day that we wait here is one more day that Arnul is in the grips of... that.”

“Anyway we're leaving early tomorrow morning,” Hanroy continued, as if he hadn't heard Rolan. “My business in the Emb Lands is not so important that it can't wait one more day. I'm going to learn some Emb lore from an Emb loremaster named S'Erak. He doesn’t know when I’m going to arrive. Anyway I’ve been studying some maps. We'll head east at first. Hopefully we can make the first éyuhand in two days. It's called Váya Éyuhand. I was there once. They have a famous kind of cactus soup. It's worth trying. From Váya Éyuhand it's another three- or four-day journey to Three Hills. It's one of the biggest towns in Rohándal.”

“Why east? I thought we were going south.”

“We are. At Three Hills, we can join up with the Great South Road. It goes due south, about three more days across the last desert of Rohándal. Then it continues due south, or nearly so, over the mountains. And then it goes down into the jungles of the Imperium. In about thirty days we'll reach the Karjan border town of Dzokra-Krtsng. It's hard to say at first, Dzo-kra Krrrts-'ng, but the Karjans can say it easily. It means 'Dwellings at the Edge of Wandering'. We can get a boat there, and travel on the River Cheihar. That way it's just two more days to Hwatsats Hondrakch, the Tower of Dawn. Hopefully we can have council with Ai-Leena.”

“So it's thirty-two days to the Tower of Dawn.”

“Give or take two or three.”

Rolan stood up, nearly knocking off the chicken dish (which he had forgotten about). Shillayne caught it, giving him a glare. “If it takes thirty days, we'll have to leave today!” he snapped at Hanroy. Then he smiled at Shillayne. “Thanks for saving that, Shill-yayne,” he said, using the same ‘blue green’ sound for her name. “Here, I'll have some.” He took the chicken dish from her, speared the largest piece with his fork, and bit into it greedily. Shillayne laughed. “Help yourself,” he said to her (she did) and to Hanroy. “It's cold anyway.”

Hanroy didn't take any. “They have a special dinner planned for us tonight,” he said. “They honor the customs of the ahíinor. They're having the farewell feast. And Keldar has some gifts for you at the feast too.”

Rolan glared at him. “Who's idea was that? I thought you wanted to bend some of the ahíinor's rules anyway, Hanroy. We can eat now and then start off.”

“We could, except that, remember, my family is going with me to the Emb lands. They aren't packed yet. I know how you feel, Rolan. But we cannot rush any faster...”

“You don't know how I feel. Your brother was not kidnapped by... by something I hardly dare to name. He was my brother, Hanroy. He was also my friend. We have to rescue him.”

Hanroy said nothing.

“We have to rescue him,” Rolan repeated. “Now, Hanroy. I've already waited more than a week to get well, and I might be as well as I'm going to get. Keldar said there was some deeper grosk-venom in me. And the longer we wait...”

Hanroy lowered his eyes. “Very well, Rolan. I'll tell Keldar to bring his gifts up here. And get the burros ready. And I'll get my family to hurry up. Are two hours ‘now’ enough?”

Rolan smiled, but still kept his glare. “Yes, that will be fine.”

Hanroy turned to leave. But before he took a step, Rolan said, “...and Hanroy, make sure that everyone here gets some of the food for the feast. I mean all the guests at the inn.”

Hanroy smiled. “Yes. I'll see to it.” He left.

Rolan turned back to Shillayne, and saw a tear in her eye. He hugged her, holding back a tear of his own, and then she followed Hanroy out of the room.

To read more of this book: Tond, Book One: The Sons of Tlaen Ras-Erkéltis: Scribner, Steven E.: 9781520157573: Amazon.com: Books